Proximate
by In Dreams
Summary: Following a tumultuous break-up with Ron, Hermione finds herself intoxicated and relatively prone to poor decision making after she runs into Draco Malfoy in a club, having been years since she has seen him. Upon seeking to escape the following morning, she realizes he is her new neighbour and is quite insatiable. Winner of best Healer!Hermione in the Granger Enchanted Awards 2018.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Hey everyone and welcome to a new fic! This one has been in the works a little while now and have decided to start posting it while I'm a bit stuck on Adaptation. I hope you like it and if so, please drop a review :)

Rated M for language, adult content and lemons.

 **Please NOTE:** There are some elements of canon, and references to past occurrences that are canon, within. If this isn't your thing, you may want to proceed with caution or read something else. Please consider this as warning for the entirety of this fic. Thank you.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

 _Proximate – close; very near; imminent_

* * *

Hermione Granger sipped her drink, miserably, wishing she was somewhere else.

Literally, _anywhere_ else.

This club was far too obnoxious for Hermione's liking – the music was too loud, the lights too erratic – but she wasn't ready to go home yet. The thought of facing her new silent, white flat, boxes still full of her possessions piled everywhere, wasn't ideal. Especially after a few too many drinks.

Anywhere else _except_ her new flat.

She hadn't seen Mandy in a while. Her friend and co-worker had meant well, dragging Hermione out, hoping to distract her. But she had been carted away to dance with some fellow ages ago and Hermione did _not_ feel like dancing.

To be frank, Hermione wasn't sure she would have had the co-ordination for dancing if she had tried. The waitress kept coming by with fresh drinks because Hermione, attempting to block the rampant thoughts, the _mental images_ , kept ordering them.

So it had come to be that Hermione was in quite a state of inebriation. She rarely drank and most certainly not to excess.

"Look who it is," a voice drawled. Hermione glanced up to see the owner of the voice, brows raised and mouth ajar.

"Malfoy," she muttered. "You're still alive."

"Still as friendly as ever," the blond ex-Slytherin teased. "It has been a very long time, Granger."

Despite herself, Hermione considered his words. She hadn't seen Draco Malfoy in person since the Battle of Hogwarts. She had followed his trial shortly after, of course, but had never seen or spoken to him directly.

"Eight years?" she asked.

"Something like that," he responded after a pause.

Without asking, the blond took a seat across from Hermione, setting his drink down and leaning towards her. He stared closely at her for a moment.

"You look different," he commented, casually sipping his drink as if this was a common occurrence. "Not in a bad way."

"That seat is taken," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. He looked different too – in far too good of a way. Hermione was certainly not going to tell him that. His blond hair was longer than it had been at Hogwarts – loose and a bit scruffy though she suspected that was by design. He had a thin layer of stubble that defined his jaw in a very appealing way.

"Oh – a date?" he asked, looking mildly shocked.

"No," she admitted, rather lamely. Almost immediately she wished she had said that yes, she was on a date. "I'm here with Mandy. She's – somewhere."

Malfoy simply raised an eyebrow, a trace of his old smirk from school on his features. It made her stomach flip.

"I must say, Granger, I'm surprised to see you here. Doesn't strike me as your sort of place," he said conversationally, as if he knew anything about her life.

"It isn't," she replied, shortly. "I was brought here against my will. You? Seems you're right at home."

"Not me either," he said thoughtfully. "Not for a number of years anyway. An old friend from school is celebrating her birthday and wouldn't take no for an answer."

After a moment he smiled, briefly.

Hermione wondered what he was still doing at her table.

"Is there a reason you're bothering me?" she asked, finishing her drink, gesturing for another as the waitress walked by. Malfoy raised an eyebrow again, grinning.

"Would you rather I leave you to continue getting sloshed on your own, Granger?"

"Yes," she replied, giving him a pointed look. He laughed sharply.

"I'd much rather witness this. Why on earth are you drinking so much?" If Hermione didn't know any better, she might have thought he looked genuinely interested. Clearly, he wasn't the same immature brat he had been in school.

That didn't mean she wanted to get to know him.

"That's personal," she said.

"I see," Malfoy responded, finishing his own drink. "Well, good to have seen you. I'll leave you to your drinking."

With that he stood up, looked around for his friends and began to walk off.

He was dressed in Muggle clothing, Hermione couldn't help but notice. Jeans and a collared shirt, with the sleeves rolled up. Her fuzzy brain appreciated the way he looked in jeans and the way the sleeves of his shirt hugged his biceps.

She suddenly felt very alone, as the waitress brought her another drink.

"Wait," she called and he turned, mildly shocked. "You can stay, if you like."

What was the harm in a bit of conversation? It seemed pretty obvious Mandy wasn't coming back any time soon. Mandy Brocklehurst was one of Hermione's good friends, despite not knowing each other well at school, but she was a bit – loose – when it came to men.

"I will stay," he responded, taking his seat once more, ordering a new drink. "So what do you do for work, Granger?"

Hermione stared blankly for a moment, surprised that he had gone to such an ordinary topic.

"I'm a healer," she informed him, "and you?"

"Always found healing to be fascinating," he said, nodding. "I chase for the Falcons."

"Er, you do what?" She had no idea what he had just said. Malfoy laughed.

"I'm a chaser, for the Falmouth Falcons," he elaborated.

"Oh, right," Hermione said, still feeling slightly confused. "Quidditch."

"You don't follow Quidditch at all, do you?" he asked, grinning.

"Not particularly," she admitted. "So you're a professional Quidditch player? When did you get to be that good?"

"After school, when I started training six hours a day, every day," he told her, still looking amused.

"Wow, that's dedication." Inwardly she was impressed, although she really didn't care for Quidditch. She hadn't paid much attention even when Harry and Ron both played back in school.

"I also used to play for the English national team," he continued, "but it was a bit much."

"I can imagine," she agreed, sipping her drink.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the pair as the waitress brought Malfoy his drink. Hermione wished she hadn't had so many drinks. Malfoy was watching her; there was something in his gaze that made her nervous.

She couldn't look away.

"Do you really want to know why I'm here?" she asked, attempting to break the heavy tension.

"Yes," he said, quietly, leaning in.

"Because," she said, tearing her gaze away. She swirled the last of her drink in the glass before tossing it back. "Yesterday I walked in on Ron with his secretary."

"How cliche," he responded, lips twitching. "You're dating Weasley?"

" _Was_ ," she corrected, flushing. "We were engaged. Suffice it to say that seeing that effectively ended our engagement. I moved out today."

"Sounds like the same idiot to me," he shook his head, leaning back. "Here's the good news, Granger: at least you saw his true colours _before_ you married him."

"I suppose so," she said, miserably. "I mean, things weren't perfect but I didn't think they were that bad."

"They probably weren't," he said lightly, sipping his drink. "His problem if he chose to look elsewhere."

For some reason his words made Hermione feel slightly better – though she really had no idea why she was sharing her personal troubles with Draco Malfoy, of all people. Actually, yes, she did. She felt very intoxicated.

How much by the drinks and how much by the company, she wasn't sure.

There was _definitely_ something different about him.

"Seems to me, Granger, you need something a little stronger," he said, eyes lit up. She watched nervously as he ordered something from the waitress.

It briefly occurred to Hermione that she should probably leave before things got out of hand.

Just then he caught her gaze again and there was something in his grey eyes that made Hermione restless, uncomfortable. Something that settled deep in her core. It felt good.

The waitress set two shot glasses of liquid on the table.

Hermione tore her eyes from his, flustered, eyeing the liquid cautiously.

"Cheers Granger," he murmured, holding his glass up.

"Cheers," she responded, softly, clinking her glass with his.

She watched, hesitantly, as he expertly tossed his shot back. At least it wasn't poison. She drank her shot, feeling it burn unpleasantly down her throat.

She coughed, the taste lingering. She wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"What _was_ that?" she asked.

"That was a Muggle delicacy called tequila," he grinned. "Another?"

"No," she responded, too quickly and he laughed.

"It grows on you, I promise," he said.

Hermione's head was starting to spin. The flashing lights were making her dizzy. She wasn't ready to go home yet and face the white silence of her new life.

"Fine, another then," she said, distractedly.

"Two more," he said as the waitress passed. He glanced at Hermione, "actually make that four."

"Malfoy," she scoffed, eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"Course not," he said quickly, "besides, you were doing a good enough job of that long before I even sat down."

"Don't you need to get back to your friend's birthday?" Hermione asked. She couldn't quite piece together why he was willingly spending his time with her.

"No," he waved a hand dismissively. "More like an ex, to be honest. She won't miss me all that badly."

"Interesting," she responded, unsure what else to say to that.

"Is it?"

He was watching her again. The waitress dropped off the shots he had ordered.

"I'm not sure," she said, rubbing her temples. She had forgot what they had been discussing. She didn't think she had ever been so drunk. The fact that she was so drunk while sitting with none other than Draco Malfoy made her extremely out of sorts.

She quickly took the first shot, feeling the uncomfortable burning sensation again. The shot nearly made her stomach roll with an unpleasant twist.

Malfoy watched, clearly amused. He took both of his shots, appearing unaffected.

Hermione set the last shot in front of her, exhaling heavily. Summoning all her Gryffindor bravery, she took the shot. Feeling as if she were about to be sick, she quickly covered her mouth, eyes wide.

He laughed, loudly. Leaned forward, a hand on her arm, head tilted.

"Are you alright?" he asked. He was grinning. Hermione was caught by the fact that he had a very nice, genuine smile. She didn't think she had ever seen it before.

The wave of nausea passed, thankfully. The last thing she needed was to humiliate herself by vomiting. Hermione nodded, removing her hand.

"Malfoy?" she asked.

He was still leaned in, almost uncomfortably close. His hand on her arm was cool but set her skin on fire.

"Yes?" he said, softly.

"Are you drunk?" she asked, almost a whisper.

"Yes," he repeated, "definitely."

"Why are you still here?" She could feel his breath mingled with hers, they were so close. It was a surprisingly intoxicating sensation.

He stared at her for a long moment, through heavily lidded eyes. He seemed slightly blurred at the edges as Hermione gazed at him.

"I don't know," he admitted.

"You hate me," she whispered, unconsciously wetting her lips.

"Eight years ago, I did," he breathed, his brow furrowing attractively, lips parted. He swallowed. "I don't know you anymore."

Hermione suddenly felt as if she didn't know him, either. This man was so far removed from the arrogant child she had known at Hogwarts. Her brain tried to rationalize the moment but was too fuzzy.

"Then, what –" she began but those grey eyes were smoldering into hers and she lost the thought.

"Shut up, Granger," he murmured, smirking a little.

Then he closed the gap between them, leaning across the table, pressing his lips to hers, gently at first, then more aggressively, digging a hand into her hair.

Hermione, forgetting to feel shocked, kissed him back because it felt amazing and she could hardly think straight and this felt like a good idea. His tongue met hers, the kiss thorough and passionate. She leaned closer still, clutching a handful of his blond hair, cursing the table between them.

He pulled back, slightly, meeting her gaze. His grey eyes burnt hot into her soul. She stared back, feeling flushed, lips parted.

The blond dropped a stack of galleons on the table, grabbed Hermione by the hand and Apparated them both from the club. Hermione barely had time to register that they were in a flat – presumably his – before he was kissing her again, one hand in her hair and the other on her back, crushing her body against his. Her eyes slid shut, overcome with the exquisite sensation of his hands on her body.

Her hands made quick work of the buttons on his shirt – he was in amazing shape. She felt her way across his chest, down to his stomach and abdomen. He groaned into her mouth and she felt it deep in her core.

He stumbled kicking off his jeans, laughing, and Hermione laughed, drunkenly, as well, clutching at his bare chest, running her hands down the defined muscles.

"Come here," he murmured, grabbing her once more, picking her up and carrying her into his bedroom.

He tossed her down onto the bed, on top of her in an instant, kissing her, touching and Hermione's brain nearly exploded from the overwhelming feel of it all.

Then the last coherent through that passed her mind was that Draco Malfoy was _very_ good at this.

* * *

Hermione awoke the next morning, head pounding. It took a minute for her to realize that she wasn't anywhere she recognized. This certainly wasn't her new flat, though it was similar. She simply knew because she hadn't unpacked the day before Mandy had dragged her to that blasted club.

Another moment to realize there was an arm tossed over her that was not her own. Carefully, she moved the arm and rolled over.

She quickly covered her mouth to muffle a soft scream.

She had _not_ slept with Draco Malfoy last night?

"No, no no," she whispered to herself, stopping as the blond beside her stirred slightly.

A quick check determined she was in fact naked. _No_. She felt sick, but wasn't entirely sure if that was from all the alcohol she had drank or the circumstances she found herself in. Probably a mixture of both.

She recalled certain portions of the night, but it was, for the most part, blurry and inconsistent.

As quietly and unobtrusively as she could manage, Hermione slid out of his bed. She located her underwear easily enough and after some searching she found her skirt and top. Carrying her heels, she attempted to Apparate home, finding that his wards would not allow that.

She located the front door and as quietly as possible, unlocked it and left his flat, finding herself in a corridor.

She exhaled, heavily, beyond relieved that he hadn't woken up. That was not a conversation she ever wanted to have.

As far as Hermione could see, the _only_ good thing about this situation was the fact that it had been eight years since she had seen Malfoy, and could very well be another eight before she saw him again. Although the rest of her life would be preferable.

She glanced down the corridor to locate an exit and froze. This corridor was painted a familiar shade of green.

The blood drained from Hermione's face.

Her new flat was in a corridor this same shade of green. Slowly, she glanced back at the wall behind her, outside of his flat. The unit number read 11.

Her new flat was unit number 12.

Perhaps there were lots of buildings that were painted the same. She attempted to Apparate to her own building.

Nothing happened.

Her head was _pounding_. She walked down the hall to 12, attempted to unlock the door. It clicked open.

"No," she whispered to herself, rubbing her temples. This couldn't be happening.

Draco Malfoy, of all people, was her new bloody neighbour. Malfoy, who she had stupidly slept with last night.

She was struck with a particularly vivid recollection of the night before that she hadn't remembered immediately upon waking, feeling the bile rise in her throat, threatening the meagre contents of her stomach.

 _He slammed into her, merciless, groaning, his closed eyelids fluttering at the sensation, his brow furrowed._

 _She arched into him, accommodating him further as she bit her lip to keep from moaning out loud. It was very nearly more than she could bear._

" _Fuck, Granger," he murmured, pounding her relentlessly even as he captured her lips, his tongue demanding access to her mouth once more._

 _Hermione whimpered at the sensation as he pulled away, thrusting with renewed persistence and her body felt each as an oath – a promise – of pleasure, mingled with the slightest pain as her sensitive nerve endings lit up, her body tensing and coiling as a spring._

 _She felt herself break, pulses of immeasurable feeling crashing over her, wave after wave, felt herself clench around him and with a few more thrusts he came, cursing, undone along with her, burying his face in her neck as his own orgasm raced through him._

He hadn't been gentle – she didn't need the memories to remind her of that when she felt it in every muscle.

She quickly cast a contraception charm on herself, one that worked after the fact, not recalling whether either of them had in such a state of inebriation.

Walking into the white, unadorned flat, filled with boxes of her things, Hermione felt dread wash over her once more.

She would have to move. It was the only option.

She closed the door quietly behind her. Leaned back against the door, sliding to the ground. She sat there for several minutes, head in her hands.

" _Shite._ "


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Okay, firstly I would like to say the response to the first chapter of this was completely unexpected and insane! I don't think I've ever received so many e-mail alerts for a chapter as I have over the last few days. I am extremely flattered and humbled by the initial response. It means so much. As a result, I'm posting this chapter earlier than I originally intended to. :)

I really hope you continue to enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

Draco slung his broom over his shoulder, intent on Apparating home to have a shower. His coach had worked them as hard as ever and Draco had stayed after team practice to work on technique and fly himself to exhaustion, as was often his habit.

His coach regularly told him he needed a life. Draco ordinarily shrugged him off. He wasn't interested in cluttering his careful routine with unnecessary endeavours.

This particular evening he was attempting to fly something specific from his mind.

Namely, the re-emergence of Hermione Granger into his life two nights prior. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen her in person and suspected it might have been at the Battle of Hogwarts or shortly thereafter.

He thought he recalled seeing her in attendance at his trial following the war, back when he had been just eighteen. When he had been proven innocent in the eyes of the Wizengamot but not in the eyes of society.

He had been surprised to see her at that bar, so much that he had had to look twice. She had begun to grow into her looks while they were still at Hogwarts – but that was nothing compared to how she looked now. Her hair, which had been uncontrollable and frizzy in school, now fell down her back as sexy, untamed curls. He had nearly fallen into those soulful brown eyes more than once and those pink lips, quirked into a smile he had never seen directed at him before, had had him wanting to taste them long before he did.

Beyond that, the way she had carried herself, even while half sloshed, had caught his attention. She had definitely matured over the years, growing out of her annoying know-it-all attitude.

 _Then_ she had proven herself to be a saucy little minx. Twice. More so than he ever could have expected. Draco wasn't surprised she had left the following morning, though, if he was honest, he was perhaps the slightest bit disappointed.

Not that he would ever want anything intentional to do with her, but the sex _had_ been unreal. He had sort of been hoping for another go when he woke up, but she had obviously sobered and come to her senses. He smirked as he imagined her realizing what she had done, wishing he had seen her reaction. Not that he had orchestrated it or anything – he had merely intended to sit down and visit with her for a moment until she asked him to leave, but when she had called him back to her table it had thrown him for a loop.

Kissing her – and subsequently, shagging her – had simply happened.

He had no doubt it had been a rebound for her, drunk off her arse after leaving her fiance of who knows how bloody long. But as he had told himself multiple times – things happen. It wasn't as if he had forced her into it.

The memories following, over the past two days, were the reason Draco was out so late flying. Picturing her, naked beneath him, her head tossed back in pleasure, had him more than a little hot around the collar.

Draco arrived at the Apparition point just outside his building and walked in. Most of the occupants of the building were magical but there was the occasional Muggle so Apparition wasn't allowed through the wards of the building.

His old neighbour had in fact been an elderly Muggle woman. She had been sweet and had grown on Draco over time but her family had recently had her moved to an assisted living home.

He had yet to see his new neighbour since they had moved in. Draco was starting to suspect that he or she was a recluse. He had walked over the day before to introduce himself but there was no one home. He hadn't even heard a sound of someone going in or out yet.

He shrugged, suspecting he would be bound to run into them eventually.

Draco unlocked the door to his flat, tossing his broom on the couch and stripped from his Quidditch robes, running a hot shower which would soothe his aching muscles.

As he thought might be the case, the mental images of Granger once again surged to the forefront of his mind and he found himself with additional business to take care of in the shower before he collapsed into fresh sheets, falling asleep almost instantly.

* * *

Three days had passed since the morning Hermione had woken up in the bed of Draco Malfoy and realized he was her new neighbour.

Three days of hurrying in and out of the building to the public Apparition point, of awkwardly scanning the corridor before leaving her flat. She had actually been late for work that morning because he had been talking to another resident in the hall and she had had to wait until he was gone. She concluded she must look paranoid.

She did not want to let him know that she was living next door. She knew it was cowardly but she didn't care.

Three days of living out of boxes, still unpacked, as she was undecided if she should stay living here. But the rent was good, it was in a good neighbourhood and the flat itself was quite nice. Furthermore, the building was largely composed of magical tenants which made it a bit easier to manage – and given that it was technically a Muggle constructed building, the electricity was an added bonus.

Also, she had been unable to find another place with such short notice.

Her main priority had been leaving Ron after what he had done, and she had had very little time to look around at flats.

Hermione Apparated home from work that day, relieved to see the hallway was clear. She rushed to her unit, but in her haste to quickly unlock the door and lift her wards, she fumbled with her wand and dropped it to the floor.

She bent to retrieve it and just as she stood, his door opened. His jaw dropped as he saw her standing there and she stared back, eyes wide with terror.

" _You_ are my new neighbour?" he asked, walking over. "I was starting to think you were a recluse. I see now you've just been avoiding me."

"Yes, well. Not a recluse," she responded, flustered, unlocking the door and walking in as quickly as she could. She knew he wouldn't have made her react this way but for what had happened on Saturday night.

Much to her irritation he followed her, standing in the doorway, looking amused.

"Granger," he said, tone low. He met her eyes. "Don't you think this is hilarious?"

"Not the word I used when I found out," she responded darkly.

"I mean, we don't see each other for how long, and then we get absolutely sloshed together and _now_ we're neighbours. I didn't expect to see you again, so soon," he said, grinning.

He stepped into her flat, closing the door behind him.

"You don't think it's awkward?" she asked.

"It's unexpected," he said, looking around. "It was just sex, Granger, if that's what you're referring to. Clearly there's no love lost between us. We're both adults and there's no need to make an issue of it. We were both _very_ drunk."

"I suppose you're right," she admitted, not feeling entirely sure of it.

"Why haven't you unpacked? Seems an inconvenient way to live," he commented.

"I wasn't sure if I was going to stay here," she said, flushing.

"Because of me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. She shrugged noncommittally. "That's ridiculous. I'll stay out of your way, you stay out of mine and we can both live in peace. Deal?"

"Deal," she repeated, allowing the slightest of smiles. "To be honest, much of Saturday night is a blur."

"I'm not surprised," he muttered, grinning. "But that is a shame – it was pretty damn good."

With that he let himself out, leaving Hermione feeling exhausted.

For some reason, talking with him had made the situation seem not as bad and she decided to unpack; with a wave of her wand her possessions made their way to their respective locations. Her white, silent flat suddenly came to life.

* * *

Over the next week, Hermione had run into Malfoy a few times coming and going. True to his word, he had kept to his own business, offering a nod as acknowledgment but not bothering her further.

It was surprisingly more tolerable of a situation than she had initially expected. He seemed to spend most of his time playing Quidditch anyway, or else training for Quidditch.

Hermione got home from St. Mungo's one day, frustrated and tired. It had been a long, busy day at work and she wanted nothing more than to relax for the evening.

Suddenly there was a loud knock on her door. Looking through the peephole, she recoiled as if she had been burnt.

It was Ron.

Hermione bit her lip, hesitating. She had done her best to put Ron and his betrayal from her mind since she had left him a little over a week ago. But he had broken her heart and destroyed so many layers of trust built from years of friendship and dating.

She didn't know if she could handle seeing him. Didn't know that she could be strong enough to ask him to leave.

She knew he wanted her back; the multiple owls had informed her of that. But she couldn't – not after what he had done.

The short time and distance apart had caused her to reflect on the relationship. Had she really been that happy with Ron or was it just comfortable and familiar after so long?

He knocked again.

Hermione sat down on the couch, knees up, arms folded. She bit her lip, feeling hot tears well at the corners of her eyes.

She had put so much into their relationship and now to be left with nothing. She had been through so much with Ron – their days at Hogwarts and the many misadventures they had undertaken together as two thirds of a trio.

Then when they would have been in seventh year – the time she had spent with Ron and Harry attempting to track down Horcruxes. It had been some of the worst times of her life but there were also times, between the terror and the death and the tragic hopelessness, the constant fear, there were times she wouldn't have traded. Times with Harry and Ron that reminded her what it was to be alive.

The times of laughing despite the tears. The bonding and comfort and the silver lining of it all. Then when the war had ended and things were finally able to get back to normal – before they had realized there was no normal. Ron had been by her side, holding her through the nightmares.

And years later, it had all been reduced to this. As if it had all been for nothing.

She wished, not for the first time, that she could see her parents. After the final battle she had gone to Australia to restore their memories and bring them home. After an emotional reunion, however, they had decided to stay in Australia and Hermione had come home to England alone. She visited them as often as time and work would allow and vice versa, but she still wished, at times like this, that they were closer. Wished she could talk to her mum, tell her how things had gone so wrong with the man she had intended to marry.

Allowing the tears to fall, Hermione buried her head in her arms, wishing he would just go away.

Some time later there came a softer knock on her door.

"Granger, I know you're home," said a quiet voice.

Hermione sighed. She didn't particularly want to talk to Malfoy either.

Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she walked to the door and opened it, not entirely caring that her eyes were red from crying and she probably looked a mess.

He just stared at her for a moment. He seemed taller than usual.

"I told him you weren't home," Malfoy stated. Then he smirked. "Should have seen the look on his face."

"Thanks," she said, feeling lame. Something in her felt very broken just now.

"Look, Granger," he said, then paused. "May I come in?"

"Oh, erm, I suppose," she said, stepping out of the doorway to let him in.

"Good to see you've unpacked," he grinned. "Were you _really_ with him for all this time?"

Hermione stared at him, biting her lip. That was definitely not his business – but she answered him anyway.

"We took a few months apart, four years ago. But otherwise, yes," she responded, sighing. Malfoy raised an eyebrow, shaking his head.

"Granger, you're so far out of Weasley's league. If he thinks he can do better than you he's crazy."

Hermione was taken aback. Malfoy hadn't said anything particularly kind since the night they had been drunk at the club together.

"Also, if he's willing to toss everything you two had over some other woman he isn't worth your tears."

"Thanks," she said, softly, flushing. She didn't know how to respond. "That's kind of you to say."

"Just being honest. Not that I know anything about the situation. I've just grown up enough to realize you're probably a pretty good catch," he shrugged.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, fighting an urge to laugh. Had he just complimented her? He ran a hand through his hair, looking uneasy for just a moment before he smirked.

"Imagine his reaction if I had told him we were fucking," he said, laughing.

"We aren't _fucking_ ," Hermione said, the last word a bit quieter, embarrassed at his crude verbiage. "It was a singular occurrence."

"I know that, but he doesn't," Malfoy said. He paused. "I think it might happen again. You never know. We _are_ neighbours. If nothing else, it's awfully convenient."

Hermione met his gaze, brows raised in surprise. She remembered how she had been caught in his gaze that night – how it had lit her soul. She quickly looked away.

"It won't happen again," she assured him. Or herself. Instinctively she took a step back.

"Whatever you say. Just letting you know," he said slowly, holding up his hands in surrender, "I would be open to it."

Hermione was caught extremely off guard. He _wanted_ it to happen again?"

"What, you mean just sex?" she asked. Some part of her was curious. Something down in her core was doing somersaults at the thought.

"Sure," he said, smirking. "I have no interest in dating. And you aren't my type."

Now Hermione was just confused. Had he not just said he thought she was a good catch?

"I wouldn't date you either," she felt it important to say. "Or anyone, for that matter. For a while. Not until I sort out some things."

"Good, just give it some thought," he said. "You know where I live."

"It's most likely a no," she said softly, her voice catching.

"Sure," he said again. He took a step closer, staring at her with those grey eyes. Hermione couldn't help getting caught in them. She felt a familiar stirring in the pit of her stomach at something she found within them. Her next breath came quicker.

His lips were parted slightly; Hermione swallowed heavily. She didn't move away. It appeared he could affect her in this way drunk _or_ sober.

He lifted a hand, buried it in her curly hair. Leaned in close to her ear.

"You don't know how sexy you are," he murmured. "It is such a turn-on."

Hermione felt her body responding to his words, her heart pounding, skin tingling.

"Have a nice night, Granger." He pulled away and, with a smirk, left her flat.

Hermione let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, cursing herself. How easily she got caught up in him. He made her act like some silly schoolgirl and she didn't even like him as a person.

So much for having a relaxing evening.

* * *

For the rest of the week Hermione found herself to be quite distraught. She was warring with her inner conscience over a number of things.

Ron wanted to meet with her. She had no interest in that, but he was being very persistent. She didn't know what she would say to him if they even did meet and she knew he would try to talk her into something she couldn't do.

She had been doing her best to squash the hurt and broken feelings that came up whenever she thought of Ron. She just couldn't deal with it yet.

Secondly, she couldn't get Malfoy's offer out of her mind. Which was ridiculous since her recollections of the first time they had slept together were somewhat foggy. Yet, he had been starring in her dreams – dreams which had her waking in the middle of the night wishing they had been real. Dreams which left her heart racing and, if she was honest, her knickers wet.

And that look in his eyes haunted her waking moments.

It was all codswallop. Hermione was a grown woman and knew well enough how to handle men. Sort of.

"What's wrong with you today?" Mandy asked, stopping Hermione in the hallway at St. Mungo's. Hermione had been drifting about, distracted, as she had been for the last few days.

"Just bothered about Ron," Hermione answered, biting her lip. _No way_ was she going to tell Mandy of Malfoy's offer. "He wants to meet for coffee and won't accept that I'm not interested in getting back together."

"Ignore him," Mandy said quickly, tossing her hair. "He had his chance and he blew it. You deserve better."

"Thanks, Mandy," Hermione said, smiling. "I appreciate that."

"Anytime," her friend grinned. "Now focus or I won't be able to let you do any healing."

"You're right, I wouldn't either," she admitted. Shaking her head free of the distracting thoughts, Hermione got back to work.

* * *

Draco was starting to feel anxious. It had been almost a week since he had talked to Granger and suggested they use one another for sex.

He was more than willing to help her forget about that blasted ginger ex-fiance of hers.

He hadn't even entirely meant to vocalize his thoughts that he would be interested in having sex with her again. He had thought of it, of course – countless times since that night at the club and especially since he found out she was living in the next flat over.

Obviously, Draco's rational side knew that she had just left an extremely long relationship and would need time to get over it, but seeing her crying over that idiot who had hurt her had made him frustrated. No woman deserved infidelity – that was something he had always believed, despite his other shortcomings.

Some part of him, seeing her red eyes, had wanted to simply make her feel _better_ – but obviously Granger wasn't the type to go for that. Sober, anyway.

Now that he had put the offer out there, Draco found himself to be impatient. He had seen her several times but they hadn't said more than hello to each other. He thought if she was completely uninterested he would have been able to read it in her body language. However, in that aspect she was saying the complete opposite.

The way her chin lowered when she met his gaze. The way her lips parted as she looked at his. The way her whole body turned towards him. The woman was subtle as a giant.

He could tell she was interested. Which meant she either felt guilty about Weasley or felt guilty that it was him. Or both. Of course, _he_ knew the path he had gone down following the Battle of Hogwarts, the way his perspective on things had shifted, but she didn't. So it was very likely that she abhorred even the thought of being sexually attracted to him.

Or she feared she would be seen as a conquest, though he didn't suspect that was the case. He had been very upfront in saying that he wasn't interested in anything more than sex, and she had agreed that she was not looking for a relationship.

Occasionally Draco indulged in a brief dalliance with women he had met, but ordinarily found himself more than ready to walk away after one or two tumbles between the sheets.

It had been years since Draco had been interested in getting to know a woman any further and that was the way he had grown to like it. His Quidditch career kept him plenty busy and personally, he already had all he ever could have wanted in his life.

The fact that Granger – who clearly was not like those women – had stayed on his mind for so long was impressive but also irritating. Perhaps it was that she _wasn't_ like any of those women.

Briefly Draco glanced at his watch as he walked about his flat, casually casting a few cleaning spells.

He had come to the conclusion that if Granger hadn't either accepted or rejected his offer by the end of the coming weekend he would simply try to let it go. He certainly didn't intend to bring it up again if she wasn't going to.

As much as he wanted it, he was not going to pine or anything of the sort.

The ball was most definitely on _her_ side of this pitch.

* * *

Maybe Hermione just needed to get him out of her system. Just once – and then she would be able to move on and stop thinking of him all the bloody time.

She hated that she was even thinking of him. Clearly Draco Malfoy wasn't the same prat he had been in school but she hadn't forgotten how they had been enemies for seven years. She still mostly disliked him – and didn't think sexual attraction had any place negating that.

But her body hadn't gotten the memo.

Just _looking_ at him in the corridor had been causing her heart to race and her core to clench deliciously. The way his hair fell and the way stubble traced the line of his jaw and the way his Quidditch robes hinted at just enough.

He had actually been sort of nice to her lately, anyways. Which _wasn't_ making things any easier.

It was Friday evening and Hermione was looking forward to a quiet, relaxing weekend. Alone. Yet all she could think of was going next door and surrendering her moral sensibilities.

It wasn't as if she had any feelings for him or wanted to date him. It was perfectly normal to engage in those sorts of relations with other people without it meaning anything else.

"Fine," she murmured to herself, knowing deep in her mind it had only been a matter of time.

Steeling her nerves, she walked next door to his suite, knocking on his door harder than she meant to.

Malfoy opened the door, eyebrow raised, looking rather bored.

"Granger," he said in greeting.

"Hello," she said, feeling rather stiff and formal. He stared at her, waiting. "I just thought I would see what you were doing, tonight."

"What I'm doing," he repeated, still looking at her curiously. Then comprehension dawned and his eyes lit up. "You mean –"

"Yes," she responded, feeling hot and flustered. "Of course, if you're still interested." He met her eyes then grinned.

"Finally," he muttered, pulling her towards him by her hand as he closed the door, and as she stumbled, caught off guard, she found herself pulled against the hard lines of his body. He kissed her, his lips playing teasingly over hers for a moment before his tongue swept out and met hers.

Hermione's heart began to race at the feel of his hands, his soft lips on hers and she fought back a sudden urge to run at the thought that this wasn't just a fantasy – this was happening and she wasn't drunk and was fully aware of every touch, every sensation.

She kissed him back, and though the tension she had felt between them was undeniably there – ready to snap – he took his time, playing with the hem of her shirt, teasing the skin of her waist.

He kissed her harder then, pulling her shirt off and as he grabbed her breasts through her bra, Hermione matched his intensity, groaning into his mouth, tugging at his shirt as she hurriedly worked the buttons. All the Quidditch training had undoubtedly done his physique very well and as she pushed the shirt from his shoulders, Hermione couldn't help but explore the hard muscles of his upper body.

He shuddered as he pulled her closer, kissing her neck while one hand deftly unbuttoned her jeans and any thoughts of teasing patience were gone as they grabbed each other, ripping the clothes from one another in something akin to desperation.

Hermione found herself completely overwhelmed, her brain coated in a haze of lust, and as she took him in her hand, the growl she drew from his throat nearly put her over the edge.

And as Malfoy tossed her down onto his bed, eliciting a giggle from her when he smirked down at her, she wondered briefly how someone she had hated so much in school could have her so completely ready for him now.

Then he was inside her, filling her entirely and this was better than she remembered and better than the fantasies that had kept her so distracted and Hermione couldn't focus on anything but the way he was making her feel as she arched into him, her eyes slipping shut.

As he worked her into a rhythm and Hermione felt herself spiraling towards that edge, so overcome with desire for him and she heard herself moaning as she opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. His blond hair falling in his grey eyes as they burned with lust heated her core. He leaned in to kiss her, one hand gripping her hip as the other moved to play with her clit and Hermione pitched forward, biting his lower lip and he growled, flipping her over.

He re-entered her within moments, pulling on her hair as his teeth grazed her neck and he slammed into her from behind. Hermione gasped at the new angle, catching a whimper slip from her lips as with every thrust he pushed her closer and closer to her peak.

When Hermione felt that wondrous inevitability approach and she turned her head, he took her lips, almost bruising, his grasp on her hip almost painfully strong. And the combination had her so delirious as she finally broke, gasping his name, and as he followed her soon after, Hermione's vision was swimming.

As she caught her breath and he pulled himself from her, casting a contraception spell and a _scourgify_ on them, she found herself staring at him, briefly incredulous. He really was an impressive sight.

"That'll have to do for now, I'm afraid," he began, staring at her carefully, "though in twenty minutes I'll give you a _proper_ shower."

Though she was utterly spent and exhausted, Hermione smiled coyly at his expression. Merlin the way he was looking at her could make her wet with just a glance and she felt her heart begin to race once more.

"Very well," she said, meeting his smirk.

* * *

So the singular occurrence which Hermione had denied would ever happen again had happened again. And again.

She simply couldn't resist him – Hermione had half expected him to taunt her about it – but it seemed to be mutual.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Hermione found herself waking up next to him increasingly often. She had come to accept him and her physical attraction towards him – but that was it, of course.

They rarely spoke beyond formalities and small talk. They didn't spend any additional time together. They seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement to avoid that sort of thing in order to steer clear of any unnecessary feelings. That was how Hermione viewed it, anyway – he was hard to understand sometimes.

For Hermione, he had proven to be in part a great distraction from her breakup with Ron and she suspected that he knew that. But it was more than that – a part of her appreciated feeling wanted, something her relationship with Ron had always been somewhat lacking.

Another part of her appreciated how amazing he could make her feel.

Beyond all that – and this was curious – the nightmares didn't come when he was by her side.

She still hardly knew anything about him – what he had done since Hogwarts, any details about his life, really. Other than the fact that he played Quidditch. She knew his father had gone to Azkaban following the war but hadn't dared ask about that and didn't suspect he would bring it up.

She supposed he didn't particularly want to share the details of his life with her. Which was fine, since she had shared very little about her life with him.

Hermione was drawn from her musings at overhearing two girls in the corridor at work talking about the Quidditch league game that had been played the previous night.

"He's got to be the best chaser in the league," one girl was saying.

"I agree, and he flies _so_ easily," the other said.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, despite herself.

"Puddlemere grabbed the snitch but the Falcons won because their chasers put up so many points," the first girl explained. "Well, mostly Draco Malfoy."

"Wow," Hermione stated. "He must be good."

"He's the best there is," the second girl gushed. "And so cute."

"Totally," said the first girl, "I'm pretty sure he's married though."

Hermione paused, staring at the girls, her mind briefly frozen. Wouldn't she have known if he was married? Of course she would.

"I know him, he's not married," she assured them.

The two girls stared at her, mouths agape. Then they continued talking about him and Hermione quickly excused herself. She hadn't quite realized he was that much a Quidditch celebrity.

* * *

Hermione fidgeted as she waited for him to open the door that night. Finally he did, looking slightly more disheveled than usual.

"Hey," he said, flashing her a quick smile.

"Hey," she responded, "I heard you played pretty well last night."

"Did you," he commented, laughing. "I suppose so. Look, tonight isn't great for me, can we do tomorrow?"

"Sure," she said after a beat. He had never turned her away before and likewise, when he had knocked on her door. "Tomorrow, then."

He closed the door with another smile.

Hermione went back to her own flat, trying not to think too much of it. Maybe he had a date – but he had told her he didn't date.

Besides, that wasn't her business anyway. Though she would prefer to know beforehand if that were the case as she didn't want to get caught in the middle of things. She would make sure to bring that up sometime.

Instead she spent the night alone, trying to pretend it didn't feel weird falling asleep on her own.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Thanks again to everyone for all the wonderful support on this piece. It means so much to know you're all enjoying it and I hope you continue to enjoy.

Also a special hello to my Strictly Dramione ladies ;)

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

Hermione rarely allowed herself to think of the war. To _really_ think of it. To consciously think of those days, of that one particular night full of flashing lights and terror and tears was to invite the nightmares in with certainty. Harry had emerged victorious, of course, but so much had been lost.

Hermione always felt bittersweet when she thought of the defeat of Voldemort. So much had been saved, of course, and she would always be proud of the bravery and sacrifice that Harry showed that day. But the many horrible memories always lingered.

The pain on George's face when he realized he was an only twin. The Weasleys huddled together, strained by the loss. The loss of Tonks and Remus, with Teddy so young. Lavender Brown had been difficult for Hermione to swallow; she always felt as if she could have made more an effort to understand the girl, but she had still been her dorm-mate for so many years. There had been so many others; the bodies in the Great Hall, left for a time to be mourned.

And afterwards, with the knowledge of what Snape had truly been – that one had hurt as well.

The nightmares were these images and more; memories, twisted and convoluted to bring only the worst, the terror, so much death.

That had been the Battle of Hogwarts – but the times spent chasing Horcruxes, of being on the run and not knowing if and when it would end – sometimes those memories surfaced too.

Hunting down the true locket of Slytherin. Breaking into Gringotts; the struggle to find Hufflepuff's cup. Not knowing if they would ever figure out how to destroy the Horcruxes. And the one that plagued Hermione the most, though she talked about it the least – being captured and subsequently tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange at Malfoy Manor. The scar on her forearm still lingered physically, the other scars still lingered mentally.

This had been one of the hardest things to grasp when she had accepted that she no longer hated Malfoy – the simple knowledge that he wasn't his family. He had been just a teenager, had never been shown another way.

She had seen his Mark, of course, many times now, but hadn't been brave enough to ask about it. It was all but faded to silver scar tissue since Voldemort had fallen. It was almost lost into his pale skin but in certain lighting it was still vividly there.

Hermione didn't suppose that would ever be a topic of conversation between them.

* * *

Ginny showed up unexpectedly the next evening, brandishing a bottle of wine.

"Surprise!" she said, grinning, as Hermione opened the door, mildly shocked.

"Hey, Gin," she smiled, giving the other girl a quick hug.

"How are you doing, Hermione?" the redhead asked, meeting her eyes. "I know you and I can't imagine you've been getting out much since leaving my idiot brother."

"Not particularly, but I've been alright," she admitted, collecting two wine glasses from the kitchen. "Just a big change is all. Living alone is awfully quiet comparatively."

"I can imagine," Ginny sympathized, sipping her wine. "Plus I hear you're living next to Draco Malfoy. How awkward is that?"

"He isn't as bad as he used to be," Hermione shrugged, "he mostly keeps to himself and whenever I see him he's polite."

There was no way she was telling Ginny she had been sleeping with him. She didn't trust that not to get back to Harry or Ron.

"As much as he was a git in school, I think it's sort of amazing how well he's done for himself," Ginny was saying.

"Quidditch, you mean?" Hermione asked. She really needed to start following that damn sport and see what all the hype was about him.

"Yes," Ginny said, wide-eyed. "In the past two years since he was acquired by the Falcons they have held very impressive winning records. People are saying he's the best chaser the league has seen in over a hundred years."

"Really," Hermione said, eyebrow raised, slightly skeptical.

"I also heard England offered him an obscene amount of galleons to play with them in the current world cup season but he turned it down," Ginny said, almost a whisper, as if she were sharing something illicit.

"He used to play for England, I heard," Hermione commented.

"Yeah, a number of years ago now," Ginny said, grinning. "I'm surprised you even know that given how little you know about Quidditch."

Hermione shrugged, taking a sip of her wine.

"So what's new with you?" Hermione asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, Ron's been over almost every day sulking or ranting or both," she said flippantly. "I told him he shouldn't have been such a royal arse. I think even Harry's getting tired of him."

"Right," Hermione said, swallowing. She ignored a pang in her chest at the thought of Ron. "I can't take him back, Gin, not after what he did."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Ginny responded. "Neither should Ron. Besides, now I get to live vicariously through you. Met anyone new yet?"

"Gin!" Hermione said, laughing. "Of course I haven't, it's only been a few weeks."

"Okay, but you have to share all the juicy details with me when you do," the redhead begged. "Between you and me, sometimes I wish Harry and I hadn't jumped into getting married so quickly."

"Really?" Hermione questioned, wide-eyed.

"I mean, I love the bloke, but things are only so exciting when nothing new ever happens," she said, shooting Hermione a sheepish grin.

Just then there was a knock at the door. Hermione froze, eyebrows raised, an almost inaudible "no" slipping her lips.

"I'll get it," Ginny said happily, having missed Hermione's reaction. She swung the door open before Hermione could say anything.

It was Malfoy. Ginny stared in a way as if she couldn't decide if she should be appalled or starstruck.

His eyes widened slightly and he glanced to Hermione, lips parted.

"Malfoy," Ginny said finally, "what are you doing here?"

"Just come to say hello," he said cautiously, still looking slightly bewildered. "Rather, I'm supposed to have a package delivered tomorrow but won't be home."

"I'll watch for owls," Hermione responded, staring at him as if he had come up with the worst line imaginable.

"Appreciate it," he said quickly, flashing a quick smile, "you ladies enjoy your wine."

Then he was gone back to his flat.

Ginny spun around slowly, eyeing Hermione suspiciously.

"Hermione," she began, "why is Draco Malfoy coming to ask about the post at half ten at night?"

"Not a clue, he sometimes gets home from practice quite late," she said, wishing she sounded more sure.

Ginny walked back to sit beside Hermione, one delicate eyebrow raised. Her eyes narrowed.

"You're a terrible liar," she said, lips twitching into a smile. "Are you or are you not sleeping with him?"

Hermione stared at her friend, nervously chewing her bottom lip. When she didn't instantly deny it Ginny's eyes flew open.

"You are!"

"On occasion," Hermione admitted, feeling horribly hot all of a sudden. "It has happened once or twice. A handful of times. Okay, maybe a dozen."

"Wow!" Ginny exclaimed. "I can hardly believe that!"

A least she wasn't taking it badly.

"We don't spend any time together or anything," Hermione quickly assured her. Briefly she explained the story of running into him in the club some weeks ago and how they both got thoroughly out of hand and he had taken her home, before she had realized he was her neighbour.

"Hermione, when I said you needed to share juicy details with me, this qualified!" The redhead was looking positively excited.

"I didn't want it to get back to Harry or Ron," Hermione said pointedly. "The last thing I need is them thinking I was having some torrid affair with their school enemy."

"I will not tell them!" Ginny assured her, still nearly beside herself. "So how is it?"

Hermione stared at her friend for a moment, one eyebrow raised, fighting back a smile.

"It's _very_ good," she admitted finally. "It's incredible."

"Well I'm sorry to have been here and gotten in the way," Ginny giggled. "I'll go if you like and you can call him back over."

"Gin," she said, shaking her head. "No. He's – different than he was. Somehow. More mature."

"Well the war ended a long time ago," Ginny reasoned, "maybe he's grown up without Lucius breathing down his neck."

"I think that has something to do with it," Hermione agreed, "but it's not as if we talk about those sorts of things."

"Do you want to date him? Sex usually leads to feelings, Hermione," Ginny said, looking concerned.

"No," she scoffed, "he's still Draco Malfoy, no matter if he's changed or not. I'm not particularly worried about growing feelings for him. Neither of us has any interest in dating the other."

"Okay, just be careful," Ginny said after a moments hesitation. Then she grinned. "I _thought_ it was weird when you showed interest in Quidditch."

"I had no idea he was such a big deal until just recently," Hermione said.

"He definitely is," Ginny assured, "I'm a bit impressed with you just now."

Hermione rolled her eyes. He was still just Malfoy to her. At least she had another girl to talk to about these things.

* * *

"No packages, I'm afraid," Hermione stuck her head into the hall after hearing him arrive home the next day.

"Damn," he said, smirking.

Then he shook his head, walking over and stepping into her flat.

"That was terrible, wasn't it?" he asked, "I completely blanked."

"It was quite uncomfortable," Hermione agreed, grinning.

"How was I to know you were having wine and a gossip?" he said, looking pointedly. "How was your night anyway?"

"It was nice," Hermione admitted, biting her lip. "Good to have a friend to talk to. Gin's very perceptive, by the way, she saw right through you."

"I figured as much," he said, shrugging. "What did you tell her?"

"That I can't get you to stop coming by no matter what I do," she said, in a serious tone but her lips twitching.

"Liar," he murmured, eyes narrowed. He took a step closer. "You told her all about how amazing I am in bed."

"Mm, you wish that's what I said," she said, tone dropping, playing with the buttons of his shirt. "It's been a few days, my memory is a bit rusty."

"It's felt like so long," he murmured, running his hands down her sides. "We'll have to fix that straight away."

"Good idea," she said, meeting his eyes.

Then he was pulling her in, kissing her and her eyes slid shut, enjoying as always the feel of his lips on hers, feeling more than ready for him.

Never mind that it was the middle of the afternoon.

* * *

Hermione had just arrived home some days later and was distractedly reading a letter from work and nearly collided with Malfoy in the hallway. St. Mungo's had announced an open position for a Senior Healer. Hermione was very interested in applying for the job, scanning the details. Generally the position would grant more responsibility as well as the ability to pursue one's own research.

"Oh, sorry," she murmured, still barely glancing up from her letter. Then she did a double take.

Malfoy was staring at her in something akin to annoyance, carrying two brooms, one considerably shorter than the other. Beside him was a small blond boy, holding a Quaffle.

Hermione's eyes flew open and she nearly jumped back.

Malfoy was watching her with narrowed eyes, looking contemplative. Finally he sighed.

"Granger, this is Scorpius Malfoy," he glanced at the boy with a long pause. "My son. Scorp, this is Hermione Granger, she lives next door."

"Hello Miss Hermione, it's lovely to meet you," the boy said and Hermione was shocked at his politeness.

"It's lovely to meet you as well, Scorpius," she replied, crouching down to his level. "Are you and your dad going to play Quidditch?"

"Yes, he's teaching me to chase like him," the boy said, grinning. Hermione's brow furrowed; he looked so much like Draco. She guessed he was four or five.

"That sounds wonderful," she said, standing back up. Then her tone dropped as she glanced at Malfoy, "I never knew –"

"Never came up," he cut her off, quietly and his eyes flashed. Almost as quickly his expression softened. "Tonight? Nine? We'll talk."

"Okay, have fun," she said, smiling. "Goodbye, Scorpius."

"Goodbye," the boy said, waving.

After they were gone Hermione let out a long breath she hadn't realized had caught in her throat. That was surprising. She wondered if he had ever intended to tell her.

* * *

Despite herself, Hermione spent the rest of the day wondering about Malfoy's son. It made sense enough why she hadn't seen him before, as they would sometimes go days without seeing one another. Did the boy live part time with his mother then? Who was she?

At least it explained why Malfoy had been preoccupied the other night when she had gone over. A part of her was relieved it wasn't something to do with another woman.

He had looked irritated when she had bumped into them in the hallway. Maybe he hadn't wanted her to know.

Shortly past nine, so as not to look as if she'd been waiting, she left her flat and knocked on his door. He opened the door moments later, staring at her with a carefully blank expression.

"Come in," he murmured, one eyebrow raised. She did, looking around.

"Before you ask a million questions, know that I may not answer them all," he said, sighing.

"That's fair," she agreed. "Where's Scorpius?"

"He has gone back to his mother's."

"Did you plan on ever telling me?" she asked, gazing at him honestly. She had decided that she couldn't have expected him to tell her; after all, things between them were only physical. He stared at her for a long moment, as if considering his answer.

"I thought eventually you would probably find out," he finally said. "It's very complicated, Granger, and no, I wasn't going to go out of my way to tell you about him, considering how things are between us."

He was picking some things up, tidying up. Hermione noticed now what she had never seen; children's books on a shelf, a toy box in the corner.

"Granger, take a seat," he said, sighing. She did as he asked and he also sat. "Do you remember the night we met at the club and I said I was there for my ex's birthday?"

"Your ex-girlfriend? Scorpius' mum?" she asked.

"Ex-wife," he corrected. Hermione's eyes shot open. "Her name is Astoria Greengrass. We went to school with her sister, Daphne."

He ran a hand through his hair.

"This isn't easy," he informed her, meeting her eyes. "I don't share my private life often. Especially being in the public eye for Quidditch I am especially careful what I share and with whom. I don't believe the whole of the wizarding world needs to know the details of my family. People do know things, of course, but I try to keep it relatively quiet."

"I understand," Hermione said, softly, "and I hope you know that anything you share will stay between us." She placed a supportive hand on his arm, then quickly withdrew it.

"I appreciate that," he said. He frowned. "Astoria and I were married very young; she was only a year out of Hogwarts. It wasn't exactly an arranged marriage, but very much... encouraged. Her family is another of the oldest pureblood lines, you see."

He glanced at her, briefly.

"The ironic part is that my parents – particularly my father – hated her, and likewise; Astoria is very open-minded and doesn't believe in blood purity. She was a positive influence on me."

"Good for her," Hermione said, a smile tugging at her lips. Malfoy grinned. He placed a hand on her thigh, rubbing almost unconsciously, turned towards her.

"Astoria and I were never in love," he continued. "We tried. For years. We got along well enough and I considered her a friend for years before and still do today. But I knew she always wished there was more. And Granger, I'm not sure how much you know about the old blood lines, but Astoria's family was cursed, long ago. The curse, sadly, was awoken in Astoria. It is unlikely she will live what most would consider a full life. Probably not even close."

Hermione gasped, wide-eyed, her hand covering her mouth.

"It was risky, but Astoria desperately wanted to be a mother for as long as she could. I wanted children too, one day, but I never would have pushed her, knowing the potential consequences. So Scorp came along, and for a while that was enough," he paused, looking strained. Hermione instinctively put a hand on his, still resting on her leg. He twisted his hand, entwined his fingers with hers.

"The thought of living out her limited days in a loveless marriage was very hard for Astoria, and she fell into a deep depression. So I let her go. Divorce is uncommon in the wizarding world but not unheard of. That was two years ago now. She looks after and teaches Scorpius most of the time and I see him as often as I can. Astoria is very flexible which I am thankful of given my Quidditch schedule. It's why I don't play for England anymore; I would never have the time to see him."

He met her eyes, gauging her reaction. Hermione was simply trying to take it all in.

"She teaches him? Like schooling?"

"Children born in magic families are mostly home-schooled before going to a school like Hogwarts. Arithmetic, reading, writing, that sort of thing. Wizarding culture as well of course."

"I understand," she said, nodding. "Thank you for sharing this with me."

"So now you see why it wasn't simply a matter of telling you I've got a son," he said, smirking a little.

"Yes, I see," she said, pondering. "Has Astoria found what she was looking for?"

"I believe she has," he responded quietly. "She is with Theodore Nott now. He understands her situation, difficult as it is. He is very good for her."

"Weren't you and him friends in Hogwarts?" she asked. "Was that hard?"

"Weird, at first," he admitted, "but I suspected she had cared for him before we married. I only wish for her to be happy and enjoy as much of her life as she can. One day it will be just Scorpius and I and I'm glad she is able to raise him. And she does, with passion and an open mind. Just the opposite of how I was raised and for that I'm thankful. Her family is wealthy, of course, but I am more than able to contribute as well."

Hermione stared at him, horrified to feel tears prickle at the corner of her eyes.

"She sounds truly wonderful," she said, biting her lip.

"She is," he agreed, "I think you and her would get along. Life can be very cruel."

"I had wondered why you were so much more mature now," Hermione told him, looking almost apologetic. "I guess I understand now."

"Being a father gave me no option but to grow up, but it was Astoria who helped me mature," he said. "I wouldn't trade Scorp for anything and have no regrets. He's all I need in my life."

The way he spoke incited a pang of longing in Hermione's chest. She wanted children too, one day, but that future was now much further off since her and Ron were no longer together.

"That's good, I'm happy for you," she murmured, smiling at him. She glanced at the time. "It's late; I should probably get going."

She went to stand but he still held her hand and he didn't let go. He was gazing at her, something unrecognizable on his face.

"Sit with me," he requested, "just a bit longer."

"Okay," she agreed. She could see, only if she looked close, the strain around his eyes.

He reached around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him and she leaned into his chest, feet tucked beneath her. He absently rubbed her shoulder, played with her hair.

This was unfamiliar territory but Hermione didn't want to ask – not now. She was sure what he had shared had taken an emotional toll on him. Never did he want to simply cuddle; only after sex and even then it was infrequent.

She felt her eyelids grow heavy and slip shut, felt his heartbeat in his chest. Vaguely felt him kiss her hair.

When Hermione awoke it took her a moment to recall where she was. She was laying on his couch, her face resting on his chest, legs tangled with his, listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart. It occurred to her this wasn't how she had fallen asleep and he must have moved her.

He was staring at her, deep in thought.

"We fell asleep," he said simply when he noticed her stirring. "I've got to get to the pitch soon." Hermione jumped, checking her watch.

"I need to get to the hospital as well," she said, getting up. Some part of her felt the loss of heat from being pressed against him.

Taking the cue from him, she didn't mention the way they had awoken or the abnormal circumstances regarding how they had fallen asleep.

* * *

Later that day as Hermione sat in the cafeteria at St. Mungo's during a break, she allowed her thoughts to truly drift.

Surprisingly the news of Scorpius' existence wasn't the most baffling part. She found herself thinking of Astoria, his ex-wife and felt what he had told her in her heart more than in her brain.

She tried to picture the girl but couldn't recall if she had ever noticed her at Hogwarts. Hermione had known her sister Daphne of course; she had been a Slytherin girl in their year. But Astoria would have been younger and there had just been so much going on during sixth year and then seventh year had been a non-entity.

The fact that impacted her so much was the willingness Malfoy had shown to sacrifice for his wife, whom he had admitted to not being in love with. Hermione suspected perhaps he had cared for her more than he realized; allowing her to walk away, seeing his son only when he was able. Being so accepting of her and wishing only for her happiness.

It certainly didn't sound like the Malfoy she had remembered from school. But the war had changed everyone and he certainly hadn't been exempt. In fact, he had gone through more than most.

She remembered the hatred she had had for him; for his family, especially his father and aunt, as they frequently starred in her nightmares. Draco had never been given a chance.

She still hated to think of the unfortunate role he had played in the death of Dumbledore, despite the fact that she knew he felt he hadn't had an option and that he hadn't actually cast the fateful curse.

She saw now that getting away from Lucius was only half of it; that it was this girl who she couldn't even remember who had been able to get through his thick skin and the young blond boy who looked so much like his father.

Hermione swallowed heavily, realizing that Malfoy wasn't at all the person she remembered. It made her wonder what else she didn't know about him.

In a small way, it made her want to get to know him better.

She quickly squashed that thought; it would do no good to allow herself to think of him in that way. But she just couldn't help it, given all he had shared.

Then there was the fact that he had simply wanted her to sit with him, nothing more. It certainly wasn't usual for them. Why did she feel like it had been crossing some sort of line?

"Alright, who is he?" Mandy asked, sitting down across from Hermione.

"What?" she asked, snapping from her thoughts.

"I've never seen you as distracted as you've been these past weeks. It has to be a man," her friend said, grinning. "And don't say Ron because I know it isn't."

"It isn't a man," Hermione lied, flushing pink. "I've just had a lot on my mind lately."

"Sure," Mandy said, lightly and Hermione knew she didn't believe her. "So long as you realize I'm going to figure it out."

Hermione sighed, glancing at her friend, feeling resigned.

"I don't know how you're so good with men," she said and Mandy laughed. "I can't figure them out, even a little."

"I'm only good because I don't _try_ to figure them out," the other girl replied. "That will only make you want to rip your hair out. When you want to talk about whoever it is, I'll be here."

"Thanks, Mandy," Hermione said with a grateful smile. "I'd better get back to work."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Just a quick note, I'm trying to keep Astoria's story true to canon though I am messing with the timeline in regards to CC and the next generation. xoxo cait


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Hey everyone! Thanks as always for all the reviews, favourites and follows! It inspires me to keep going with the writing. I hope you continue to enjoy and let me know what you think! xoxo

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

Hermione had been invited to dinner at Harry and Ginny's house. Harry had spent hours, Ron and Hermione alongside him, cleaning up Grimmauld Place following the war. Despite repeated assurances that Ron would not be there, she felt nervous given that he still hadn't let up with the owls.

But she appreciated the offer and decided to go. She had hardly been anywhere but home and St. Mungo's for weeks and it was nice to have something else to do.

At the same time, she hadn't seen Harry since she had left Ron; she hadn't found it in herself. She didn't think he would be upset with her but him and Ron were best mates and she could only imagine the side of the story which Harry might have heard.

She Apparated in at half six, offering a bottle of wine to her hosts as they greeted and hugged her.

"It's good to see you, Hermione," Harry said, embracing her tightly. "You know you should have come to see me sooner."

"I know," she said, sheepish.

She looked up at Harry and despite knowing him so many years, she still sometimes found herself intimidated by him since the war had ended. He was a very successful Auror now and many cells in Azkaban were occupied because of him.

"How is work?" she asked, smiling at Harry.

"It's been quiet. Makes me nervous," he replied with a grin. "And you? Saving lives daily?"

"More like removing boils and unwanted appendages," she said, laughing. "They are starting to give me more responsibility though, which is good. The hospital is looking to promote a new Senior Healer so I've been working extra lately."

"Good," Harry responded, "I hope you get it. They'd be crazy not to give it to you."

"I hope so too," she said, smiling as she followed Ginny into the kitchen, "can I help?"

"Of course," Ginny waved a hand.

The two girls completed supper, chatting about things of little consequence until Ginny looked pointedly to the living room where Harry was and then back to Hermione.

"Anything new with... you know?" she asked, in a low tone so as not to be overheard.

"Nothing," Hermione said, flushing lightly. She didn't imagine he would be too happy if she told Ginny what he had shared with her in confidence. "He's very busy, I haven't seen him much."

"Maybe that isn't a bad thing," Ginny said, biting her lip. Hermione felt a flash of annoyance. "Not that you can't look out for yourself, I just don't want to see you get hurt again."

"I'll be fine," she assured her friend, feeling as if they had had this conversation before.

"Of course you will," Ginny agreed, casting off the subject.

"What are you two talking about?" Harry asked, walking into the kitchen moments later. "Smells great."

"Nothing that would interest you," Ginny said flippantly. "Set the table, will you?"

Harry planted a kiss on Ginny's cheek and floated off to do as she asked.

Dinner was delicious but uneventful. The three discussed many things, but the topic of Ron was noticeably absent, for which Hermione was grateful. She did not want to talk about him.

As the night wound down and Hermione was preparing to take her leave, there was a _pop_ and Ron Apparated in. He stared blankly for a moment as he realized Hermione was there.

"Hey," he said, looking uncomfortable.

"Hello," she replied, not looking at him.

"They didn't tell me you were here," he said, glaring at Harry and Ginny.

"With reason, Ron, so please go," Ginny said, approaching him.

"No, I think I'll stay," he said, loudly. "She won't return my owls or talk to me so this feels like a good time to talk."

"I don't want to talk, Ron," Hermione said softly, trying to keep a level head. The last thing she needed was another argument. "I've said all I needed to."

"I don't care," he said, stepping closer. Hermione suspected he had been drinking and her pulse started to race. "I haven't!"

"Ron, leave," Harry said, his voice low and dangerous.

"I think I'm just going to go home, Harry, Ginny, thanks for supper, it was lovely," Hermione said, frantically wanting to get away from him.

"No you aren't," Ron said angrily, grabbing her wrist.

"Yes," she snapped, drawing her wand instantly. "I am."

"Fine, run home. Got someone waiting on you then? Dirty slag," Ron sneered.

"Isn't that hypocritical," she threw back, desperately trying not to cry in front of him. "You are horrible, Ronald."

With that she Apparated home, briefly meeting Ginny's eyes, seeing the pity in them mixed with anger.

She collapsed in an exhausted heap on the couch, feeling the built up tears of frustration and hurt break loose and, unable to hold it back, found herself sobbing.

A few minutes later there was a soft knock at her door. Hastily wiping at her eyes, she checked the peephole then opened the door just a crack.

"Thin walls," Malfoy said by way of explanation. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said half-heartedly. "I went to Harry and Gin's for dinner and Ron showed up."

She noticed him visibly tense, his grey eyes hard and distant.

"Do I need to kick his arse?" he asked, so matter-of-factly that Hermione laughed.

"No," she said, biting her lip. "I hadn't seen him since I moved out. He was drunk and nasty and I left."

"Good," he murmured, "you don't deserve that."

After a moments' hesitation, he lifted a hand, wiping a tear from her cheek. He stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then he kissed her, a soft kiss to the lips, briefly before he pulled back.

"Don't cry, Granger," he said. He met her eyes. "You're so much better than him. You'll find someone who knows how to treat women. I'm around if you need anything."

She wanted to say she needed him. But then he turned and was gone.

He was so confusing. Hermione thought he quite knew how to treat women but he wasn't interested in her. The thought certainly did nothing to make her feel better.

And if he wasn't interested in her, why had he kissed her? Furthermore, why had he left? He had never been shy about engaging her in sex; between last night and now he hadn't twice – she didn't know what had changed.

She shook her head, remembering what Mandy had said; don't try to understand them.

* * *

Draco wasn't entirely certain what was the matter with him.

He had definitely crossed some sort of unwritten line with Granger the other night when he had kissed her after she had come home from Potter's and he had heard her crying. She probably thought he was a total sap and was ruining their arrangement.

He just hadn't been able to stop himself – knowing that it had been Weasley to upset her. His blood boiled just a little at the thought that the daft redhead was still going out of his way to make her life miserable.

Then there was the occurrence where he had shared with her about Scorpius and Astoria and he had convinced her to stay with him and they had fallen asleep on the couch.

Draco supposed he had been shocked and a little relieved that she hadn't been overly concerned with what he had shared. Most women he knew would have been running for the hills at the thought that he had been married before and sired another woman's child, which was part of the reason he usually didn't bother himself with trivial things like dating. Granger had literally not batted an eye.

Out of nowhere a Quaffle hit him in the face. He looked around, blinking. Without thinking he dropped his broom into a dive and recovered the ball he had presumably been meant to catch.

"Focus, Malfoy!" his coach, Ken Carrington, called from the sidelines.

"Sorry, Draco!" another voice called. That was Cassie Tiggs, one of his fellow Chasers on the Falcons. Draco shook his head at the thought.

He and Cass had gone for a romp once – close to two years prior, shortly after Draco had transferred from the Appleby Arrows to the Falmouth Falcons. The team had been out for some celebratory whiskys following a big win and one thing had led to another.

While he had found Cassie attractive, and most certainly a great Chaser and teammate, Draco found her otherwise shallow and a bit vapid and had instantly put on the brakes after she had approached him the following week.

Things had been a little awkward between them for a few weeks but eventually they had simply put it aside without discussion for the sake of the team. Every so often, however, Draco still noticed her looking at him as more than a teammate and it made him uncomfortable if he was honest.

Draco fell back into formation with Tiggs and the team's third chaser, a woman named Lizzie Halcombe who had only ever been sweet to Draco, as they began a new practice drill.

Draco willed himself to focus and carefully stowed his thoughts about Granger to a compartment at the back of his mind for the time being. They were to play the Arrows the following day and Draco definitely wanted to finish ahead of his old team.

Draco went home to shower immediately after practice, having made plans to meet Theo for a drink at the Leaky Cauldron. He had been pushing himself harder than ever lately and it was taking a toll. He was definitely ready for a drink – or a few. If it happened to keep the thoughts about his new curly-haired neighbour to a minimum, then all the better.

* * *

Word of the new Senior Healer position had spread through St. Mungo's and Hermione found herself most definitely not the only person interested in the position.

The hospital administrators had decided interested and eligible Healers could submit an application for the position and all applicants would be closely monitored over a certain period of time.

As a result, much of the idle chatter and gossip that usually occurred around Mungo's was absent, replaced with abnormally attentive and efficient Junior Healers.

Hermione _really_ wanted the position and had been working more hours than anyone, picking up extra shifts and staying later than required almost every day.

Senior Healers were afforded much more respect and authority as well as given the more important work. Hermione had never wanted to be a Healer so she could drain pus from boils and other similarly unappealing jobs. She wanted to actually help people, to save lives and make a real difference.

Furthermore, a position as a Senior Healer would allow Hermione her own office – many advanced Healers pursued their own research or potions development or the like. She was very interested in medical research and had a significant interest in potioneering as well, to a certain extent.

After the war she had decided to go into healing after seeing the devastation and loss first hand. Healing was a sadly under-respected profession but so vital and she so badly wanted to do something worthwhile.

Thankfully, pursuing the position meant much less time for Hermione to be caught up thinking about men. She felt more like herself – she had never been one to pine and lately she had been pining more than enough.

* * *

When she stopped to think about it, Hermione hadn't seen Malfoy in over a week. He had stopped coming by and, feeling as if she might have done something wrong, she hadn't gone over either. But she didn't know what she had done to push him away.

As far as she was aware, he enjoyed their little habit as much as she did.

She hadn't so much as run into him since he had come by after her dinner at Harry and Ginny's. She told herself that it was loneliness but suspected she might have actually missed having him to talk to.

Then one day as she arrived home, late after a long day, she saw him in the hallway, Quidditch robes on and broom in hand. She tensed for a moment.

"Did you have a game tonight?" she asked, breaking the slightly awkward silence.

"Yes, I did," he replied, somewhat stiffly.

"How did it go?" she asked, walking alongside him down the hall toward their flats.

"Good, we won." He grinned, relaxing. "It was a big match, too. Against the Arrows."

"Congratulations," she said, smiling in return. She didn't know anything about the Arrows, or the Falcons particularly for that matter.

"Thanks," he said, rubbing his eyes. "The extra practice has been paying off, but _fuck_ am I tired."

"I can imagine," she said, feeling uncomfortable as they stopped outside his flat. She felt the same way lately.

"Granger, I've been meaning to ask you something," he said, glancing at her sideways. "You're fine with how things are, yeah? With us?"

"Yes," she said, confused. "Compared to what?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Last week, things felt a bit... blurry." He gave her a funny look. "I just want to be sure we're okay. Not growing any feelings or anything. Because we can call it off, if you're uncomfortable. Or anything like that."

"Not growing any feelings," she repeated, smiling. She didn't want to lose him. She ignored her pounding heart. "You?"

"I think you're great," he shrugged. "Maybe that's what worries me. The more I get to know you the more I think it would be easy to fall for you if I were to let myself. I don't want to put you in a compromising position given that you're just out of a relationship. But I can make sure no more weird situations happen."

Her eyes widened at his admission, so easy and honest.

She wanted to say she didn't mind the weird situations. But she didn't want to push him away.

She also knew he wouldn't want to fall for her. He had all he wanted in his life; that much he had made clear.

So why were his words so confusing?

"That's fine," she heard herself saying.

"Good," he said, his voice low. "Come over in fifteen? I need to shower. Sweaty."

He wrinkled his nose, meeting her eyes. Only he could make being sweaty from a Quidditch match sound so sexy.

"Or I could join you in the shower," she said casually. His eyes darkened with lust, the way she liked them.

"I like that plan _way_ better," he murmured, tugging her by the wrist into his flat.

* * *

So things had gone back to normal – whatever normal was for them. True to his word, there had been no more weird situations; no more cuddling, no more spontaneous kisses. Though she would have denied it to him, she secretly wished there had been something.

Not that it would be good for either of them.

She suspected somewhere along the line she had started to consider him a friend. So maybe that was the reason she found herself thinking of him in that way and she was simply mixing up the signals.

"Healer Granger!" someone called and Hermione's head snapped up. It was one of the younger healers on duty. "You're needed in room fifteen."

"Right," she murmured, casting off her personal thoughts and drawing her wand, hurrying to room fifteen.

Room fifteen was an emergency room – maybe someone had noticed her hard work of late and assigned her something more complex. The thought made Hermione nervous and excited.

"What's the diagnosis?" she asked as she walked into the room, two bewildered looking healers-in-training staring at her.

"Quidditch accident," one of them informed her. "Bludger to the broom. Multiple contusions and broken bones."

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face as she looked down at her patient for the first time. It was him. An image of a small blond boy proudly holding a Quaffle flashed behind her brain. She swallowed heavily.

"Has he been given anything?" she requested.

"Calming draught," one of the training healers responded, "and a potion for the pain."

As Hermione stared at the two young healers, both looking in awe at Malfoy's prone form, she realized they were starstruck. She shook her head, trying to calm her nerves.

There was another man looming over him, a sturdy, intimidating looking man.

"My name is Ken Carrington," the man said gruffly, briefly shaking Hermione's hand. "Head coach of the Falmouth Falcons."

Hermione nodded, getting to work. She waved her wand over him, detecting several broken ribs and many other broken bones on his left side, his collarbone, down his arm. She exhaled a breath she hadn't realized was caught. Trying her best to remain clinical, she quickly announced her findings and the two training healers assembled the potions she requested.

With numerous complicated spells and potions all of his bones had begun to mend themselves but it would be a long process. The cuts, scrapes and bruises would be somewhat easier. The training healers hurried away to assist in another room.

Suddenly he stirred, his eyes fluttered open and he grabbed her hand with surprising strength. Hermione froze, meeting his gaze.

"Oh, here's my princess," he murmured, a lazy smile slipping over his features, his eyes glazed. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise.

"Clearly the potions are working," she said with a nervous laugh. The coach was eyeing her suspiciously. She quickly drew her hand back out from his grasp.

"Did we win, coach?" he asked, turning to the older man.

"You're alive," the coach grunted. "That's what matters."

Malfoy stared at his coach, deadpan.

"Did we win?" he repeated then winced.

"Yes, we won," Carrington affirmed.

"Good," he murmured, eyes slipping shut again.

"He will need to stay overnight, at least tonight, possibly more. I will need to keep a close eye on his condition," Hermione informed Coach Carrington. "He has taken extensive damage."

Hermione swallowed. She could only imagine the pain he was in, despite the potions he had been given. She had seen many Quidditch injuries come in, of course, but not usually this bad. And no one she personally knew.

"So long as he can fly again," the coach grumbled. "Those Cannons beaters are vicious. I will personally be sure his _accident_ gets reviewed."

"You don't think it was an accident?" she intoned, glancing sharply at the man.

"No, I don't," Carrington replied. "He's very good. To the point where he has a permanent target on his back. His name doesn't help his case any, despite his efforts to change that."

Hermione could tell the coach genuinely cared for his star chaser.

"I understand," she agreed, nodding. She looked down at his unconscious form, feeling a surge of respect and maybe something else. "I knew him in school, and I know him now. If I didn't know better I wouldn't have recognized him as the same person."

The coach stared at her for a long moment.

"You're the healer neighbour." It wasn't a question. Hermione stared at Carrington, taken aback.

"Yes," she replied softly, feeling quite smaller than herself.

"The kid spends an awful lot of time on the pitch," the coach said by way of explanation. "He's mentioned you a time or two."

"That's interesting," she stated, unsure what to say. He had mentioned her at Quidditch practice? To his coach?

"Between you and me, he needs to find a woman," the coach said gruffly, a trace of a smile evident. "But that isn't my business."

"He's very stubborn," she murmured softly, feeling uncomfortable.

"That he is. Well, I would say take care of him but I already know you will." The older man shot her a wink and Hermione felt herself flush. Did he know?

Coach Carrington turned from the room and was gone. How odd.

Though it was late and Hermione's shift had ended she felt no great desire to leave Malfoy's side and go home. She worked on some of his superficial injuries, healing the cuts and scrapes.

She laid a hand on his forehead to be sure he didn't have a high temperature and her hand lingered over his cheekbone, his jaw. The sharp features that made him so attractive. His face was relaxed in sleep and Hermione found herself staring at him far longer than necessary.

She could admit she had been quite scared when she first saw him at Mungo's. He was certainly in rough shape but it could have been worse. A fall like that could have potentially killed him.

He stirred in his sleep and smirked.

"Stop checking me out," he murmured, one eye cracked open and then the other.

"Hey," she said softly, smiling. "You should sleep."

"My entire body feels on fire," he said, irritably, "you try sleeping."

"That's normal," she assured him. "It will hurt for a while. Your bones are fixing themselves. You must have had some fall."

"I remember being hit and being thrown off – my broom splintered from the impact – and that's it. I was quite high up," he said. He met her gaze. "I'm glad you're my healer. I trust you."

"You might be here for a couple days," she informed him. "I'll come in early tomorrow to check on you. You might not be back flying right away."

"Sure I will," he scoffed, "I've got matches to play."

"Not until you're healed, you won't," she said sharply, eyes flashing.

"Good luck stopping me," he murmured but there was no malice in his tone. He grinned tiredly, his eyes fluttering. Then he winced again, clearly feeling the pain of the healing process.

"Sleep," she reminded him.

He reached for her hand and Hermione acquiesced. He entwined his fingers with hers, his expression thoughtful.

Then his eyes fell shut again, his breathing light and consistent. Hermione waited a few more minutes then carefully drew her hand from his relaxed grip and went home.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** Hey everyone. Thanks as always for all the wonderful support on this story. It really does make my day to receive such wonderful reviews and hear your thoughts. Hope you enjoy xoxo

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

The next day Hermione Apparated to St. Mungo's earlier than was required. She told herself it was because she felt a duty to be sure her patient was okay and besides that she went in early almost everyday now. But he had said he trusted her as his healer and as a friend she wanted to check on him.

She walked into his room, half expecting him to be asleep so she would be able to assess his condition in peace and see how well his bones had healed.

When she walked in, however, she froze, eyes wide. He was seated upright in bed, with visitors. A beautiful dark-haired and willowy woman who Hermione thought looked vaguely familiar was sitting at his bedside along with a young boy Hermione recognized.

She almost turned and left, feeling as if she were interrupting, before reminding herself that she needed to check on him anyway.

The woman turned sharply and glanced at Hermione, a flash of concern crossing her face.

Malfoy looked up as well, his expression hard to read.

"Astoria, this is Healer Granger. She has been looking after me. She is also a friend," Malfoy spoke softly. "Granger, meet Astoria Greengrass."

The expression on Astoria's face instantly changed as she stood, walking to shake Hermione's hand.

"Lovely to meet you," Astoria was saying, displaying a brilliant smile. "Thank you so much for taking care of Draco."

"Hi again, Miss Hermione," Scorpius said, waving from his seat. Astoria's eyes widened in surprise before she turned to look at Draco.

"Of course, Ms Greengrass, that's my job," she assured the woman, returning the smile. "And hello Scorpius."

Hermione stepped forward, hesitant.

"Granger is also a neighbour," Malfoy stated in response to the look Astoria was giving him. "She met Scorpius in the building."

"I don't mean to interrupt," Hermione said, feeling slightly flustered. "I just came to check on Mr Malfoy."

He smirked at her, perhaps at the formality with which she addressed him. Hermione met his gaze, fighting back a smile. Out of the corner of her eye Hermione noticed Astoria watching her with a curious look.

Hermione quickly drew her wand, going about her task in checking the status of his healing. He was not yet ready to leave.

She walked to a cupboard, drawing two bottles and handing them to Malfoy.

"Take these," she said softly. "Does it still hurt?"

"Nah," he said, winking at Scorpius who giggled.

"Well, Draco, it looks as if you're in good hands," Astoria said with a smile, giving Malfoy a meaningful glance. "Healer Granger, it was wonderful to meet you. Take care. Come along Scorpius."

"Thank you, you as well," Hermione said, watching as Astoria took Scorpius' hand and led him from the room.

Malfoy stared at her, eyes aglow and lips twitching. After attempting to ignore him for a moment she finally stopped her work, glaring at him.

"What?" she asked, feeling self conscious.

"Astoria likes you," he said, "I can tell. I'm sure I'll be hearing about that later."

"About what? I hardly looked at you," she said, feeling defensive.

"Exactly," he drawled. "This does still hurt something awful, by the way."

"And it will until it's done," she replied snappishly. He just smirked, his eyes full of laughter.

"I'm just playing," he teased. "But Merlin when you're riled at me." He let out a low whistle, shaking his head. Hermione paused then, meeting his gaze. The way he was looking at her was downright indecent. She felt her stomach flop in too pleasant of a way.

"Clearly you're feeling better," she said shortly, swallowing heavily.

"Am I well enough for physical activity, Healer Granger?" he asked, his voice husky.

"Absolutely not," she murmured though his words were getting to her as they always did. Despite herself she took a seat on the edge of his bed.

"Shame," he said, still in that low voice. "You'll have to go on top then."

"Malfoy," she hissed, glancing at the door as if anyone could hear them.

"I mean it," he replied then put on a pretend pout. "It'll make me feel better." He took her hand, tracing light circles with his fingers.

"The potions will make you feel better," she said pointedly, glancing at the two vials he hadn't drank yet. She bit her lip. "I'll have to make it up to you when you're back at home."

"Can't wait," he said, then groaned at the thought. "Can you dress as a slutty librarian? _Please_."

"Really?" she asked, her nose wrinkled.

"Oh yes," he agreed. He considered the thought for a moment. "Well I need a cold shower. Guess you'll have to undress and wash me."

"Not happening," she said, standing up and consulting her charts. She made some notes and saw she had to visit another room. The chart magically updated itself according to need. "I've got another patient to see, I'll check back on you later. Drink your potions!"

"Fine," he grumbled but winked as she left the room.

Hermione shook her head, but inwardly smiled. It was nice to see him in good spirits; he could be far too melancholy some days.

* * *

"You look flustered," Mandy said as she also entered the room Hermione had been called to. Her eyes narrowed. "Why are you so red?"

"Ran here," Hermione lied, shrugging. She quickly got to assessing the patient, while Mandy crossed her arms, an eyebrow raised.

"Right," she said but shook her head. "I hear you've been put in charge of Draco Malfoy. Haven't seen that prat in years. Probably since Hogwarts."

"Common antidote," Hermione said, holding out a hand. Mandy drew a vial from the potions cabinet and handed it to Hermione, who quickly administered it. "He is still a bit of a prat. But not an evil one. Seems as if he's grown up."

"I had a crush on him in school," Mandy admitted. "Is he still sexy?"

"Yes," Hermione agreed, hoping Mandy wouldn't get any ideas. "But he's still Malfoy."

"Not as if I'd marry the bloke," Mandy snorted. "Nothing wrong with a bit of fun."

"I suppose," Hermione responded shortly.

"Perhaps I might stop by his room, just to see what he's like now," the other girl mused. Hermione felt herself tense against her will. "What's wrong with you?"

Mandy stared at Hermione curiously and Hermione looked away, willing the flush in her cheeks to fade.

"Oh," Mandy said simply then her eyes widened. "No!"

"What?" Hermione asked innocently. She waved her wand over the patient, casting several spells. The antidote had put the woman into a slumber.

"You like Draco Malfoy?" Mandy asked, looking baffled. "It's _him_ that's had you so distracted?"

"Keep it down," Hermione hissed. "I don't like him."

"You don't like him," Mandy repeated, "but you've just come from his room looking flustered and turned on. Oh Merlin, Hermione. You're in trouble, aren't you?"

"I think so," Hermione whispered, verbalizing for the first time her fears that maybe she did like him, just a little. "This is partially your fault, you know. If you hadn't left me alone at the club that night I wouldn't have run into him."

"Since _then_?" Mandy exclaimed. Hermione thought she was enjoying this rather too much. She nodded sadly. "Does he like you?"

"No," Hermione responded but paused. Every so often he would do or say something that seemed somewhat misleading. "I don't think so."

"Well how about this: I'll come with you when you check on him this afternoon and I'll be able to tell if he likes you or not."

Hermione hesitated, considering her offer.

"Okay but do _not_ be awkward or overly direct," she warned the other girl.

"Of course not. Ravenclaw, remember? I have more tact than that." Mandy tossed her hair, grinning. "I'll see you later!"

Hermione slowly followed her friend from the room, consulting her charts to determine her next patient. How had she agreed to that?

* * *

"Malfoy, this is Healer Brocklehurst. You might remember her from Hogwarts," Hermione announced as she walked into his room later that day.

"I recall," he said, after a pause. He raised an eyebrow, smirking at her. Hermione intentionally avoided his gaze.

"You played brilliantly against the Arrows last week," Mandy said quickly, staring at him with wide eyes. Hermione rolled her eyes. Not Mandy too?

"Thank you," he responded politely. "And not so brilliantly against the Cannons this week, it would appear."

Mandy laughed at his joke and even Hermione grinned.

"Are you here as Healer Granger's bodyguard?" he teased and Hermione glanced at him, eyes narrowed. His expression suggested he misread the plan and thought Mandy was there to protect Hermione from his lustful intentions.

"Implementing new protocol," Mandy said sharply without any further elaboration. Malfoy stared at the two girls, confused.

"Take your potions," Hermione said, handing him two new vials.

"They make my brain feel fuzzy," he said. "I'd rather not."

"They're for the pain," Hermione reminded him softly. She stepped closer, assessing his condition with her wand once more. "You aren't quite healed but close."

"I'm feeling better," he murmured, meeting her eyes.

"If you don't want to take them you don't have to," she shrugged.

"Then I won't," he said. Hermione took the potions back to the potions cabinet.

"I think you should be released this evening," she said, consulting her ever handy charts.

"That's a relief," he said. He glanced at Mandy who was standing to the side looking uncomfortable. Then he looked pointedly back to Hermione, giving her a brief smile. "I'll look forward to that."

"But no Quidditch until next week," Hermione said, "healer's orders."

"Granger," he groaned, "I'll miss the next game."

"It _is_ Mungo's policy," Mandy piped up. "If more than a dozen bones are mended, no strenuous activity for a week following release."

"See," Hermione nodded. "It's for your own good, Malfoy. I already told your coach you might be out for a bit."

"Oh?" he asked, curious. "And what else did you and my coach discuss?"

"Nothing I'm going to share with you," Hermione said flippantly, watching his eyes narrow.

"You're lucky I don't have my strength back," he growled. "I'd make you –"

He cut himself off, clearing his throat, looking awkward. It was nothing compared to the look on Mandy's face.

"You're right, you don't have your strength back. So no Quidditch," Hermione smiled at him. He rolled his eyes.

"Fine, but you can't keep me from flying," he murmured, lazily taking her hand. He met her eyes. "I'll come over tonight. Remember what I told you earlier."

Mandy's eyebrows flew into her hair.

"I assumed she knew," Malfoy stated, glancing at Mandy. "Or you wouldn't have dragged her along."

"Mandy knows," Hermione agreed, biting her lip.

"If Mandy doesn't want to know all the things I'm going to do to you tonight, she should leave the room," he said, smirking. Hermione's eyes widened and she looked nervously to Mandy who was edging to the door. Clearly their plan had backfired.

"No strenuous activity!" Hermione said weakly and then, "I don't want to hear about it either." She quickly followed Mandy to the door.

"It'll be a surprise then," he called, staring at Hermione as she turned back to him. She tore her gaze from his with some effort.

"Wow!" Mandy exclaimed as they left the room. "I wasn't expecting that."

"He's... a lot to handle," Hermione admitted.

"Very confusing," Mandy said. "Especially for him to act that way given your blood heritage. No offense. He was just always so crass in school."

"I thought so at first too," Hermione said thoughtfully. "So what did you think?"

"I'm baffled, honestly. I couldn't tell." Mandy shook her head. "If I had to guess I'd say he's got it bad."

* * *

Hermione was starting to think he had affected her brain capacity. She felt completely ridiculous and hoped this was worthwhile.

As he had requested, she had dressed in her best _slutty librarian_ outfit. She bit her lip nervously as she waited for him to come over.

When the knock came she steeled all the best of her Gryffindor nerves and opened the door, biting her lip.

"Holy _fuck_ ," he exclaimed, walking in and slamming the door behind him. "Seriously, Granger?"

The way he was staring at her suggested she had got it right.

"I said I would make you feel better," she said softly, taking a step towards him.

"I didn't think you were actually going to dress up," he admitted. She jumped as he very boldly buried his face in her exposed cleavage, inhaling deeply.

He leaned back, his eyes a very dark grey.

"You know, I had a dream about you like this once," he murmured, playing with a loose curl. He smiled. "It was in sixth year. I _hated_ it because I couldn't get it out of my mind."

"How the mighty have fallen," she teased, dragging him to the bedroom.

* * *

Over the following days Hermione didn't see Malfoy. She knew Scorpius was over for a few days while he wasn't playing Quidditch. She hadn't wanted to bother him.

She knew how important it was to him to have this time with his son uninterrupted. Though she suspected he was itching to play again, at least this meant she didn't have to hear about it.

She braced herself when there was a knock on the door one evening after she was home from work. Malfoy was leaning in the doorway, broom in hand.

"Hello," she said conversationally.

"I'm going for a fly. Allowed?" he asked, somewhat begrudgingly.

"So long as you steer clear of any bludgers," she said. "That's fine. I thought your broom was destroyed?"

"I have loads," he waved a hand, "the broom makers send them to me hoping I'll ride them in a game."

"Makes sense," she nodded. "Scorpius is gone?"

"Yes," he said, "which reminds me, Astoria won't leave me alone about you. Something about sexual tension." He smirked.

"What did you tell her?" Hermione asked, laughing.

"Nothing," he said, one blond eyebrow raised. "She can think what she wants but if I told her anything I would never hear the end of it. She thinks I should meet someone."

"But you don't want that," Hermione said flippantly, swallowing heavily.

"Not necessarily," he said, "my situation is complicated as you know."

"Right." She felt a stab of disappointment and ignored it. _She_ understood his situation. "Well have a nice fly."

"Thanks," he said but didn't walk away. He made a face, looking quite uncomfortable.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, sighing. She suddenly wanted to be alone. But then she assessed his expression in surprise. "Are you nervous?"

"A little," he grumbled. "It's awful, I know. I just keep thinking of being thrown off."

"You'll be fine," she assured him. "I keep hearing you're a natural flier."

"Yes, well, it's irrational," he muttered then glanced at her. "Would you like to come with me?"

"Absolutely not!" she exclaimed, tempted to slam the door before he said any more about it. Hermione hated flying and most certainly had no interest in going with him.

"I won't let anything happen to you, and it'll take my mind off being nervous," he explained. "You don't want to learn?"

"No!" she said, panic rising as a flush in her cheeks.

"Don't you trust me?" he asked, unleashing on her the full power of those grey eyes.

* * *

Hermione had stared in his eyes and trusted him and was seriously regretting it as he positioned her on his broomstick in the pitch where he played Quidditch, instructing her where to hold on.

"I'll steer until you're feeling comfortable enough then I'll let you, alright?" he was saying.

"No, you'll steer the entire time," she argued. She had half a mind to Apparate herself right back home where she could be sure she would stay on the ground.

The broom was hovering hardly above the ground and Hermione was already getting nauseous.

But then he sat on the broom behind her, his hard chest pressed against her back and she had nowhere to go. He took hold of the broom in front of her and Hermione was so overwhelmed with the feel and the scent of him that she felt herself relax, just slightly, despite all of her best efforts not to.

"Really, Granger, it's not as if I do this for a living or anything," he murmured in her ear and his hot breath made her shiver. She hadn't considered this part of flying with him. "I won't let you fall."

"I'm keeping my wand on me," she made him aware.

"But then you'll snap it if you fall," he said, smirking. Hermione turned to him, mouth agape with anger.

Without warning he suddenly pulled the broom up in one smooth movement and it flew up into the air. Hermione instinctively let out a small scream, grasping for the handle. She could hear him snickering behind her and tried to shoot him a dirty look but was too afraid to move.

He stopped once the broom was hovering quite high above the ground.

"Look, it's not that bad," he said.

Hermione glanced down and nearly screamed. She had never been this high up on a broom. Instead she closed her eyes, trying to calm her breathing.

"It will be more frightening for you if you keep your eyes closed," he informed her. "Who knows what I might suddenly do?"

"I hate you," she hissed, opening her eyes again just a crack, refusing to look down.

"Please," he breathed, making her shiver, "we both know that's a lie."

He took off again, leaning forward, gaining speed. Hermione tried to remind herself that he wasn't going to let her fall, that he did actually know what he was doing.

Besides that, his strong arms around her felt comforting and she allowed herself to relax just slightly and enjoy the ride.

He really was an amazing flier; the broom was practically an extension of his body and he flew with such ease and fluidity that Hermione found herself seeing what everyone else admired about him.

She glanced back at him; his expression was peaceful, his hair blown back in the wind. He met her gaze, lips curved into a smirk.

"Holding on, Granger?" he suddenly asked. Her eyes widened but before she could answer he barrel rolled the broomstick, once, twice, three times.

Hermione screamed in fear, clutching desperately at him and the broom. He laughed in her ear, thoroughly enjoying himself.

"I really do hate you," she seethed, once the broom had righted itself.

"That isn't very nice," he admonished, "I'd watch what you say given that you're at my mercy right now. You've hurt my feelings."

Hermione cursed as he began accelerating the broom, faster and faster, to the point where she could hardly breathe. Then he went into a steep dive and the ground came hurtling toward Hermione at an alarming speed. She froze in horror, accepting that this would be how her life ended, when he suddenly pulled up on the handle just as she felt her shoes skim the grass. He pulled the broom back to a safe height but too high for her to jump off.

"See? Not so bad after all," he said, as if nothing had happened. Hermione could only let out a strangled sort of whimper.

"I am never flying with you again," she promised once she had caught her breath.

"Well, I'm letting go," he said conversationally. Malfoy held his hands up. "You're steering now."

"No," she breathed, "I'd really rather not."

"Well one of us has to, and I've let go." She shot him a dirty look.

Hesitantly she took control of the broom, cautiously leaning forward to gain some speed and re-familiarize herself with the mechanics of flying a broom.

He had let go of the broom and was simply holding onto her, one arm wrapped around her waist, his chin gently resting on her shoulder.

Hermione found that once she was in control and didn't have to worry about him pulling any more crazy stunts it was actually quite enjoyable. That and she knew that if something went wrong he would more than likely be able to save them.

"Isn't it wonderful?" he murmured, smiling.

"It's something else," she admitted. "I see why you love it so much."

"Mm," he said, "freedom."

Hermione was taken by the genuine smile on his features. She saw it so infrequently. There was a sort of innocence in it, a part of him that hadn't been damaged by the war and the Death Eaters and memories she couldn't even fathom.

She was startled as he turned his head to kiss her neck, his hand drifting up to massage her breast. She found herself getting distracted and tried to focus on flying.

"Stop," she said, half-heartedly.

"Just keep going," he said into her neck, continuing his delicate ministrations. His hand slid under her shirt, playing with her nipples through her bra, the other hand deftly undoing the button of her jeans, drifting into her knickers.

"Malfoy," she said, softly, feeling her breathing grow heavy as his fingers worked their magic.

"Ever come on a broom before, Granger?" he asked. She could feel his smirk against her neck; clearly the question had been rhetorical.

She groaned, leaning back against him, the broom floating lazily of its own accord. What he was doing simply felt too good and he knew so well what she liked.

Ironically she felt so secure that she forgot to be scared at how high up they still were and how she was holding onto only him.

When she snapped, feeling the waves of pleasure roll over her, he casually took hold of the broom and flew it safely back to the ground.

"I like this broom," he said, meeting her eyes as they dismounted.

Then he grabbed her by the back of the neck, pulling her closer and kissing her with a sense of urgency that Hermione felt in her core. She kissed him back, running her hands down his chest.

There was something about the kiss that was different than many they had shared; some primal sort of need. It made her feel desperate and emotional and before she knew it he was inside her and she was up against the Falcons bleachers, still half-clothed. It wasn't gentle but explosive and Hermione felt the culmination of that flight, of the tension between them, pressed so close together that he had obviously felt as well.

She felt something else, too, some sort of emotion that would have brought her to tears had she thought too long on it.

When he was finished, he stood alongside her, out of breath, and grinned.

"Well then," he muttered.

"Yes," she agreed, smiling faintly. He was usually so controlled.

They both dressed in silence and he took her hand in his, the broom in his other hand and he Apparated them both home.

"Come over, if you like," she said softly. She didn't expect him to given they had already done what he would usually come over for.

"Sure," he said simply.

As Hermione lay awake, the emotion that had run through her earlier raced through her mind, threatening to evoke the tears once more.

He had kissed her, lingering, before falling asleep, limbs tangled with hers.

But try as she might she couldn't clear her mind, the range of feelings from tonight, of flying, of the urgency with which he had kissed her.

The tears fell, overwhelmed tears of confusion and Hermione eventually drifted into a restless sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Hello everyone! Thanks as always for all the reviews, follows and favourites. It really does mean so much and it's a bit part of why we write.

There has been a lot of reviewer consideration with regards to denial and our couple needing to talk. They will talk, in time. Please enjoy xoxo.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

" _You_ went flying?" Ginny exclaimed in shock. She quickly covered her mouth, looking around.

"Yes," Hermione said, flushing red. She lowered her voice. "Then we had angry bleacher sex."

Hermione hadn't seen him for a few days, since the night they had gone flying, her mind playing havoc with the emotions from that night. She had needed a girl to talk to, which was a very infrequent occurrence ordinarily.

"Ooh," Ginny squealed. "Flying though. You must really trust him. Ron never even got you on a broom, did he?"

"No," Hermione said. "I would never have let him."

"Is this a good thing?" Ginny asked, reading Hermione's expression.

"I don't think it can be," she whispered, feeling a flash of panic. "Gin, I think –"

"Did I hear something about you going flying, Hermione?" Harry asked, walking into the room. "I find that hard to believe."

"It's nothing, Harry," Ginny broke in.

Harry stared at the two girls then turned his gaze to Hermione. Sometimes he could be frighteningly astute.

"Have you met someone?" he asked. "That's the only way I can fathom you getting on a broom."

"Of course not," she said, smiling reassuringly.

"Go on, Harry, we're chatting girly things," Ginny said and Harry shook his head but left the room.

"What do I do, Gin?" Hermione asked, nervously chewing her lip.

"Sounds to me like you have two options," the redhead replied. "Either you tell him or you walk away."

* * *

Hermione had decided she didn't like either option. Not one bit.

Telling him was definitely not going to happen. He had made it clear he didn't want a relationship with anyone, not simply her, because of the complications in his life due to Scorpius. Hermione didn't think it was all that bad, really; she liked Scorpius and had no problem with Astoria. She didn't care that he was divorced and a father; she cared about who he was as a person. The irony was that she had originally thought she hated who he was.

But no matter – it wasn't up to her.

The thought of walking away gave her an unpleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach. She didn't know that she was strong enough for that option.

She had been avoiding him and hadn't seem him in nearly a week now.

"I know that look," Mandy said as she sat down beside Hermione in the cafeteria at Mungo's. "Do we need to go out tonight?"

Hermione ran a hand through her hair. She felt defeated and exhausted.

"Yes, I think so," she replied.

"I'll Apparate in at nine, we can get ready together," Mandy said.

Hermione smiled, grateful for the easy friendship she had with the former Ravenclaw.

* * *

Mandy had showed up at nine as promised and the two had drank wine and Mandy had done Hermione's make-up. As the two girls were ready to go, tipsy and giggling, Hermione opened the door of her flat.

Malfoy was standing there, hand raised to knock. He stepped back, blinking in surprise, burying his hands in his pockets.

Hermione swallowed heavily as she met his eyes.

"You're wearing too much make-up," he said as a greeting. "But you look nice all the same. Going out?"

"Yes, with Mandy," she replied. Mandy came to the door, saw him standing there and instantly turned and walked back into the flat.

"Be careful," he murmured, smirking, "you pick up all sorts of strange men when you go out with Mandy."

"I won't be picking up any men," she said, chewing her lip.

"Good," he said softly, brow furrowed. "Not that it's my place."

Hermione gave a sort of jerky nod. Anything she could think of saying in response to that wouldn't go over well.

It wasn't his place, technically, as they had no arrangement for exclusivity. But Hermione knew how she would feel were he to bring some strange woman home.

"Anyway," he said, "I just came by to let you know I have two tickets for my next game on Tuesday. If you wanted them. I know how desperately you need to learn more about Quidditch." He smirked.

"That's why you came by," she repeated, skeptical. "Free Quidditch tickets."

"Partially," he admitted, winking. "But I see you're busy. So free Quidditch tickets it is."

"She'll take them!" Mandy exclaimed, coming closer to the door again. Hermione gave her friend a disgruntled look.

"Fine," Hermione sighed. "I'll take them."

He reached into his pocket and handed her two tickets.

"They should be pretty good seats," he shrugged.

"Thanks," Hermione said, biting her lip. "I'll bring Mandy."

"Of course you'll bring Mandy," Mandy said, grinning.

"Well," Malfoy said, smirking. "You ladies have a nice night."

* * *

Hermione sipped her drink, vaguely determining that she didn't care for the bar scene in London all that much. Which she already knew, of course, but had been tempted out anyways.

Mandy had gone to the loo, and considering the line, would be a while.

"Hey, Hermione!" she heard a familiar voice. She turned and her chest constricted. It was George and Charlie Weasley.

"Hi George, Charlie!" she said, standing to hug them both. "It's so nice to see you."

"You too," Charlie said. "We've missed you around the Burrow lately."

"Right," she said, uncomfortably.

"We understand, of course," George said. "Sounds like Ron was a right prat."

Hermione stared at the two older men, who she considered brothers. Who would have been real brothers not all that long from now had she still been engaged to Ron.

George had never gotten over the loss of Fred. While everyone tip-toed around his feelings after the war, Hermione had done her best not to treat him all that differently and he and her had become close. It had been heart breaking – it was as if George had been one half of a whole for so long that after the war he'd had to learn to be a new person. She had never known Charlie as well growing up but he always had such a congenial attitude she had grown to know him quite well after the war and he had become one of her favourite Weasleys.

"How's work, Hermione?" Charlie asked as he pulled up a chair. George also took a seat.

"Great," she responded brightly, "very busy. Working to earn a position of Senior Healer at the moment. And you? How are the dragons?"

"Temperamental as always," Charlie said with a grin.

"I can imagine," Hermione responded delicately. She had never been able to fathom working with dragons all the time but Charlie seemed to love it. "How's the joke shop doing, George?"

"Busier than ever," George said with a smile. "We won't keep you – we're meeting Ron soon but will do our best to keep him from seeing you."

"I appreciate it," she said, biting her lip. "Maybe one day we can try to be friends, but not yet. So good to see you, George, Charlie."

Just as the pair of redheads walked away Mandy came back, taking her seat.

"Weasleys?" she asked, watching.

"Yes, Charlie and George. Apparently they are meeting Ron," Hermione responded, glancing at Mandy nervously.

"Alright," Mandy said, frowning. "We will try to avoid him. But if you have to make a quick exit I'll understand! Let's go dance."

"I'm not dancing," Hermione said half-heartedly, narrowing her eyes.

"Yes," Mandy said, "it'll be fun."

Hermione sighed, finished her drink and reluctantly allowed herself to be pulled towards the dance floor.

* * *

Hermione Apparated home, thoroughly frustrated and fed up. She and Mandy had been having a nice time until Ron had seen them and come over, trying to get her to talk to him. He had even been nice about it, attempting to get her to sit down with him.

When she told him she had no interest in speaking to him, that she needed some more time before she could consider rekindling a friendship with him, he had grown hurt and angry.

Reminding him that it was he who had cheated on her only made matters worse. Fortunately George and Charlie had stepped in and convinced Ron to walk away and from what she could tell, took him back to the Burrow.

Hermione, however, no longer had any desire to stay at the bar and had said goodnight to Mandy and gone home.

She understood that Ron was hurt that she had called off their engagement, especially after all they had been through together – but perhaps he should have considered that before he went behind her back.

She did want to attempt to be friends with Ron again one day, but it was all still too fresh for that.

Suddenly there was loud pounding at her door. Hermione rubbed her eyes. Now what?

Suspecting it wasn't anything good, she wasn't in a rush to walk to the door until she realized that it was the middle of the night and the pounding would likely wake the neighbours.

Then she heard yelling and shook her head, running a hand through her hair.

She opened the door to see Ron, red-faced and angry, and Malfoy, leaning casually against his own doorway, looking unimpressed.

"Fuck off, Weasley, she's never going to take you back," Malfoy was saying as she opened the door.

"What do you know about it?" Ron shouted, glaring at the blond.

"Obviously more than you," Malfoy retorted.

Neither of them had noticed her open the door.

"That's enough!" she shouted, angry with them both. She could bloody well look after herself and Ron needed to quit coming by unannounced when he _knew_ she didn't want to see him. It was getting horribly redundant. "Both of you, bugger off!"

Ron stared at her for a moment, as if wanting to say something but not knowing what. Malfoy's expression was carefully schooled, one eyebrow raised. He glanced at Hermione, his face softening as he met her eyes.

There must have been something in Malfoy's expression, in the way he looked at her, the way his brow furrowed because before Hermione could warn him, Ron's fist connected squarely with his jaw and Hermione's eyes widened in anger and fear.

She knew instantly this was not one of Ron's brighter moments, starting a fight with a professional Quidditch player in peak fitness and in possession of lightning reflexes. Before Hermione could even say anything, Malfoy had returned the blow, knocking Ron off balance and following with a mean hook.

Hermione froze, only briefly, before drawing her wand and aiming at random as the scene quickly devolved into a fist fight.

" _Petrificus Totalus_!" she cried and it was by chance that the spell hit Ron. The redhead froze instantly, dropping to the floor. Malfoy brushed himself off, staring angrily at her.

"That could have hit me!" he said, irritated.

"You would have lived," she said, equally annoyed with them both. "Never mind that you're both grown men, we're brawling like children now!"

"He hit me first," Malfoy said, sounding very much like the petulant youth she had known at Hogwarts.

"That's why I gave you time to hit him back," she murmured softly, glancing at him.

She walked over to Ron, bending down to the floor.

"Ron, I'm going to let up the spell and you're to _go home_. Stop coming here." She met his confused eyes staring up at her and softened just a bit. "Maybe one day we can sit down and talk, but certainly not when you've been drinking. Alright?"

She released the spell and Ron left the building and Disapparated with a last glare of loathing at Malfoy.

Hermione sighed, massaging her temple. She turned back to her flat, simply wanting to go to bed.

"You alright?" Malfoy asked, gazing at her. "Bad night?"

"It wasn't all bad," she said, sighing. "I never wanted things to be like this. He and I were so close for _so_ long."

She knew Malfoy didn't care about her relationship with Ron. Which was why his next words shocked her.

"I'm sorry," he said, his tone honest. "I know it hasn't been easy on you. Maybe it was just never meant to be."

"Maybe," she repeated. She felt, sometimes, that Ron had taken a part of her with him. The thought made her feel lost.

Malfoy walked closer, wrapping his arms tightly around her frame. After a moment she leaned in, reaching her arms around his back. She inhaled his familiar woodsy scent, feeling as if she could stay in his arms forever.

It occurred to him she had been avoiding him for the past week and yet here he was when she needed him.

"Do you want to come over?" he murmured in her ear, before pulling back. "To sleep."

Hermione met his eyes, shuddering at the loss of heat. She wanted nothing more than to curl up at his side and drift to sleep, worrying about nothing and no one. The thought was a jab to her heart and she was reminded why she hadn't seen him.

"I think I need to be alone right now," she whispered. His expression didn't change but she could tell it wasn't what he hoped or maybe expected her to say.

"Okay," he said simply, kissing the top of her head. "Goodnight."

"Night," she murmured, though he was already gone.

* * *

It was Tuesday and Hermione had gone along, somewhat reluctantly, to watch the Falmouth Falcons play the Kenmare Kestrels. She couldn't remember the last time she had intentionally been to a Quidditch match that hadn't been at Hogwarts – perhaps the Quidditch World Cup before fourth year?

Mandy had convinced her it would be rude to accept the tickets and then not attend. Hermione agreed, though she had little interest in watching Quidditch.

The tickets he had given her were actually amazing – it was in the Falcons' own box seating area and there were many witches and wizards of notoriety and high social standings seated near them.

"I can't believe these seats," Mandy was gushing. "Every time I come to a match it's so far off you can barely see anything."

The game began and though Hermione hardly understood all the rules, of which there were many, she found herself more than a little interested in watching the match. She highly suspected it was because she actually knew Malfoy and therefore had someone to cheer for.

He was superb as a chaser – lightning fast and accurate. She knew he was a good flier, though she would admit it only begrudgingly, from the time he had taken her flying.

He navigated the pitch with ease, along with his fellow chasers and the three moved so fast in complicated formations Hermione could scarcely keep up at times.

Despite never having held much of an interest for Quidditch, Hermione found herself more than a little impressed and though she would never admit it to anyone, took some small measure of pride in the fact that he was her friend. Or something.

"He has no fear, has he?" Mandy asked, wide-eyed as Malfoy scored a particular daring goal. "I know if I had been knocked off my broom and injured the way he had done I wouldn't be so quick back on a broom."

"Most definitely not," Hermione agreed. She bit her lip to refrain from telling Mandy that he _had_ had some nerves before his first fly back.

At one point he had flown so close, Quaffle in hand, that Hermione would have sworn he had winked at her before quickly dodging an incoming Bludger.

"Hermione?" Mandy said softly and Hermione turned to her friend, realizing she had been watching her. "You really like him, don't you?"

"I think so, some at least," Hermione admitted, making a face.

"Do you love him?" Mandy asked.

"No," Hermione said quickly, shaking her head. "I don't think so. But there's something. Something that I would never have imagined."

"Sometimes it doesn't make sense," Mandy said, "but that doesn't mean it's bad."

"It's bad when he doesn't feel the same way," she said, looking pointedly at Mandy.

"Are you sure he doesn't?"

"Quite sure," Hermione said. "He's never suggested otherwise, after all this time."

"Maybe he doesn't want to pressure you, seeing as you've just been getting over Ron," Mandy reasoned, deep in thought. Hermione considered the possibility.

"I suppose it's possible," she shrugged. "I would never presume to understand his mind."

She returned to watching him, trying to fight the curiosity in her brain at Mandy's words. Was there a chance he would ever see her in that way?

The match went for nearly three hours, when the Falcons' seeker caught the snitch, ending the game at 430 for the Falcons to 260 for the Kestrels. Hermione found herself on her feet, cheering wildly with everyone else. Oddly enough she hadn't been bored once.

As Hermione and Mandy gathered their things, preparing to leave, Malfoy flew over, hovering in the air in front of them.

"Hey," he said, smiling, "glad you could make it."

His blond hair was messy from the wind, a slight flush to his usually pale complexion.

"Right, couldn't waste the tickets," Hermione said and Mandy elbowed her.

"She had a blast," Mandy informed him and Malfoy laughed.

"Congratulations," Hermione said, shooting Mandy a dirty look. "You played very well."

"Thanks," he said, shrugging. "It was a good match."

Just then two dark grey blurs flew up, ambushing Malfoy playfully. It was his fellow chasers, two women by the names of Tiggs and Halcombe. Two particularly attractive women. Hermione tried to ignore a brief twinge of jealousy.

"Fantastic chasing, Draco," one of them was saying.

"Excellent as always," the other said. They both jostled him for another moment before flying off.

Hermione glanced away, to be sure she had all of her belongings and when she looked back at him he was watching her, lips curved into a smirk and eyes aglow. She met his eyes briefly then looked away, flushed.

"Meet me on ground level in five?" he asked. "I'll walk you out." The stadium was loaded with anti-Apparition wards.

"Sure," Hermione said, swallowing. He grinned, flying back down to the rest of his team.

He caught up with the two of them, on solid ground once more. Hermione recognized his coach Ken Carrington just beyond and the older man looked at her for a moment, before recognition dawned and his eyebrows flew up in surprise as he saw Malfoy walking towards her.

Hermione gave Carrington a brief smile and a wave and he returned the gesture with a nod. Malfoy raised an eyebrow, glancing behind him to see who she was waving at.

"Healer Granger," Carrington said, walking over. "You see he's just like new again." The man clapped Malfoy on the back.

"I see that," Hermione smiled. "Congratulations. This is my friend Healer Brocklehurst, she also helped with Malfoy's recovery."

Hermione gently shoved Mandy forward, who was looking on wide-eyed at the Quidditch coach.

"Sort of," Malfoy snorted ungracefully.

"Good to meet you, Healer Brocklehurst," Carrington said, ignoring Malfoy.

"Likewise," Mandy said quietly, still staring. In fact she was staring anxiously at the whole team.

"Well, take care, hopefully you come to another match soon," Carrington said, with a pointed look at Malfoy who stared at his coach, unimpressed.

"Take care," Hermione returned, smiling. Malfoy was looking disgruntled.

"Come on," he said, steering Hermione to the exit with a light hand to her back. She noticed one of the female chasers – Tiggs – look over at her in surprise.

Once outside the stadium, Mandy quickly turned to Hermione.

"Thanks, this was fun. See you at work tomorrow, goodnight!"

"Goodnight, Mandy," Hermione said, amused.

"Goodnight, Mandy," Malfoy parroted, though his gaze was firmly on Hermione. As soon as Mandy Disapparated he took Hermione by the arm and Apparated them both home.

So," he said, leaning against the corridor wall as they arrived back in the building, "what did you really think?"

"It was fun," Hermione said, surprising even herself. "You play so well."

"Because I practice so much," he said softly, turning to look at her, still leaning against the wall.

"You're very humble," Hermione said, honestly. "It's something I wouldn't have expected, before."

"I've learned a lot of hard lessons about pride," he said, meeting her eyes. He took a step closer, drifting a hand lazily to her hip. She swallowed, remembering the conversation she had had with Mandy earlier. Some part of her knew she should walk away. That it wasn't fair to either of them if she were truly developing feelings for him.

She knew she wasn't strong enough for that. Not right now.

He took another step towards her, trailing his hand across her cheekbone, burying it in her hair. He pressed his lips to hers, softly, before pulling back just a bit.

"I'm glad you came tonight," he murmured, meeting her eyes, his hands rubbing up and down her arms.

"Me too," she admitted. He kissed her again, the same soft, relaxed sort of kiss. His tongue met hers and as he kissed her slowly, almost lazily, it occurred to Hermione that they were still in the corridor and they ought to choose a flat when he pulled away again.

His eyes were sparkling and Hermione realized it was happiness. Which was understandable given that his team had won.

"Really glad," he continued. He threw in a quick bite to her earlobe. "I may have been showing off for you. Just a little."

"You don't usually fly like a maniac?" she teased.

"Oh, I do," he said, grinning, "just not quite as much."

As if just realizing they were still in the corridor, he unlocked the door to his flat, tugging Hermione by the hand inside. Once in his bedroom, however, he turned to her.

"I don't know about you," he began, gauging her reaction, "but I'm _extremely_ tired."

"Oh, alright," she blinked. "Another time, then."

As she turned to go, her head spinning at his wildly mixed signals, his grip on her wrist held firm and she looked back to him.

"Stay?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

"Okay," she shrugged. She took off her clothes, left in just her underwear, feeling somehow timid, though he had seen her nude so many times.

She quickly crawled in under the covers, sinking in contentedly as he joined her. After a moment he moved closer so that his stomach was pressed to her back, his arm wrapping around her waist.

She tensed for just a second before leaning back into him as well. She always enjoyed the feel of his body on hers, whether through sex or not. She felt him relax, a whispered "sweet dreams" in her ear and her eyes slid shut as if against her will.

The last conscious thought that passed her mind was that she could get used to this.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** Hi dear friends. I am consistently flattered and overwhelmed by the response to this story. It means more than I can say. We are now encroaching upon some new, important lines within the story. Please enjoy xoxo.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

When Hermione arrived at St. Mungo's the next morning there was a lot of chaos and bustle around the communal bulletin board and Hermione walked over, heart leaping into her throat.

"They're posting the new promotions right away," Mandy informed her in a low voice. "Good luck. If it isn't you they've lost it. I'd like it to be me, obviously, but you've been working harder than anyone."

"Thanks, Mandy," Hermione said, squeezing the girl's shoulder nervously.

Just then three Senior Healers walked into the excited crowd. One waved a wand and a page appeared on the bulletin board. There was a list of healers-in-training who had completed their training and would be certified Junior Healers as well as the new Senior Healer position she had been working towards.

Hermione froze as she quickly scanned the sheet, her hand flying to her mouth. It was her. Tears sprang unbidden to the corners of her eyes.

"Hermione!" Mandy exclaimed. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks," Hermione gasped, momentarily overwhelmed. She knew she had worked her arse off but _still_ , to see her name on the sheet was a wonderful surprise.

The crowd of expectant Junior Healers dispersed with a bustle of dissatisfied chatter, leaving Hermione and Mandy with the three Senior Healers.

"Good work, Healer Granger," one of them, a man named Healer McTavish, said. "Come along, I'll show you to your new office."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said, following quickly after him as he led her to the floor of research offices. She had her own desk and workbench with a potions and ingredient cabinet, for research and potioneering and whatever else she endeavoured to do.

This was all so exciting.

"You may take an hour to get settled before I'll expect you on the floor. Your schedule will be changing in the coming weeks to allow time to work on your projects. Research topics and potions development must be formally submitted for approval prior to commencement," McTavish said as Hermione continued to explore her new office. "Any questions?"

"Not presently," Hermione said, biting her lip.

"Very well, see you in an hour."

With that the man took his leave and Hermione fought back a squeal of excitement. She knew from the initial announcement that she would be able to withdraw ingredients from the hospital stores for potions development and it looked as if the desk was full of supplies. She had so many research ideas she could hardly decide which one to pursue first.

Hermione drew a sheet of parchment and a quill in front of her at the desk and started drafting a list of ideas, along with a second list of potions she wanted to develop.

Checking the time she realized she had just fifteen minutes left until she would be required on the floor in her new capacity. This new position meant she would be in charge of more patients with more serious conditions. Likely she would shadow an existing Senior Healer for emergency cases for the first couple weeks.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Hermione said, distractedly trying to complete her list of ideas before her hour was up. She glanced up, expecting perhaps Mandy had come to see her office.

It was Malfoy. He was dressed in his Quidditch robes with a broom casually over his shoulder. She blinked at him.

"I was told I could find you here," he said by way of explanation. "It seems as if congratulations are in order."

"Thanks," Hermione said, confused. Why on earth was Malfoy at Mungo's?

"I have to get to practice soon, but I wasn't sure if you can accept owls while you're working," he began. "Astoria wants to meet you for dinner tonight."

"Me?" Hermione asked, her confusion growing by the second. "Why is that?"

"Not sure," he said, his eyes twinkling, "she likes you. Maybe she wants to be your friend."

"Will you be there?" Hermione asked, wondering if this was all some bizarre dream. Why would the ex-wife of the man she was sleeping with want to meet her for dinner?

"Sure," he shrugged, "if you want me to."

"Definitely," Hermione said. "Are you sure she doesn't mean to hex me?"

"I still haven't told her anything," he said shortly. "I'll tell her you agreed. Meet me at the Cauldron at seven?"

"Fine," Hermione said, pressing her fingertips to her temple. She suspected it would be easiest to simply say yes.

"Nice office, by the way," Malfoy grinned.

"It is, isn't it?" she teased. "I'll walk you out."

He stopped her as she walked to the door with a hand on her arm. She turned to meet his eyes.

"I knew you'd get the promotion," he murmured, "you've been working so hard."

"I appreciate that," she said, flustered by his proximity. He swooped in with a lingering kiss and Hermione thought of another potential use for the empty workbench in her new office. She quickly shook the thought free.

In hindsight, perhaps walking him out of St. Mungo's wasn't the best plan as Hermione found herself surrounded by whispers and chatter from most of the female healers in the corridor as they walked, making light conversation.

She knew she would be hounded later. Most of the girls she worked with, Hermione knew, considered him a celebrity of the highest level. Especially since he so looked the part in his grey Falcons robes, carrying his professional broom.

Malfoy simply ignored the twittering.

"See you at seven," he said quietly, smirking, before he left.

"Later," she murmured.

Hermione turned on her heel, drawing her wand and consulting her healing charts without a chance to overthink his visit. The last thing she needed was to be late to her first patient as a new Senior Healer.

* * *

Draco really needed to sort himself out.

As he sent a response back to Astoria confirming dinner that evening, he found himself wondering just what exactly he was thinking.

He had started to feel quite certain that he liked Granger. And seeing her last night in attendance at his Quidditch match had only confirmed it.

He had been so damn happy that she had actually come, he hadn't quite known what to make of it. But then looking at her in the corridor afterwards, realizing that she truly had enjoyed watching him play – and beyond that – that she had actually gone for him, despite not caring for Quidditch.

It had flooded him with something he wasn't entirely familiar with.

When he had become engaged and married to Astoria, it had all happened so quick. They'd hardly had time to get to know each other and while Draco thought she was attractive and they got on well enough, there hadn't been a significant, deep connection.

But, therein lied the problem.

Granger wasn't looking to get involved with him. They had made that clear numerous times since they had begun their arrangement, neither interested in anything more. She was only recently out of a long engagement and it wasn't his place to push her.

Draco knew he ought to walk away but damnit, he was too selfish for that. There was a part of him that hoped that just maybe, a small part of her might feel the same.

Which also _terrified_ Draco.

He had come to a stark, sobering realization upon waking that morning. _Even if_ Granger was for some reason interested in more with him, how could he possibly offer her what she deserved?

Despite the many years since the Battle of Hogwarts and the end of the war, there were still people in the wizarding world who did not take kindly to him and the fact that he hadn't been sent to Azkaban. Even now, he received threats and caught hissed insults when he went to Diagon Alley. Prejudice certainly wasn't dead, even on the back of his many efforts to make things better.

How could he possibly subject Granger to that treatment by being involved with him? Granger, who had been so possessed of courage in the face of danger and almost certain death. He had seen it himself; at the Manor, at Hogwarts. Granger, who had fought so prominently for the _right_ side.

It just wasn't so simple as choosing to pursue her. Even if he wanted to, it exposed a whole host of new problems that Draco wasn't sure he was able to deal with. He just wasn't ready to make any decisions like that.

Draco sighed, trying to push the troubling thoughts to the back of his mind as he sent a reply owl to Astoria. He needed to get to the pitch.

Seeing her tonight, with Astoria, would only make it harder.

* * *

When she Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron at ten to seven that evening, Hermione felt a wave of nerves overtake her. Her first day as a Senior Healer had been so busy and exciting she had hardly had time to dwell on her dinner with Astoria. And Malfoy. The more she thought about it the more bizarre it seemed.

Hermione ordered a firewhisky while she waited for Malfoy in an attempt to soothe her nerves. She sat at the bar, sipping it perhaps quicker than she meant to.

"Getting sloshed without me?" he teased as he took the seat next to her. She glanced at him. He had obviously changed out of his Quidditch robes, as had she out of her Healers' ones. He looked quite nice and it occurred to Hermione that she rarely saw him anywhere but at either of their flats.

"Join me then," she teased back. She was suddenly reminded that the last few times she had seen him they hadn't had sex.

"Can't," he murmured, meeting her eyes. "Astoria's made a reservation."

"Alright, I suppose we should get this over with," Hermione said, finishing her whisky.

"She's nice," Malfoy said. "I'm sure you'll like her. Very atypical Slytherin."

Hermione saw the way he glanced around the pub and noticed that more than a few people were watching them, including a table of girls who were staring blatantly, one of whom was holding a drink halfway to her mouth, utterly forgotten.

"Let's go before we make the _Prophet_ ," Hermione murmured and he nodded.

"Definitely," he agreed as they both stood to leave. He smirked. " _Former Death Eater Shares Alcoholic Beverage with War Hero._ "

"Please," she said softly, following his lead as he walked to the restaurant they were to eat at. "The war's long over. More like, _International Quidditch Star Shares Alcoholic Beverage with St. Mungo's Newest Senior Healer_."

"Aren't we impressive?" he said with a smile. "But you give me too much credit."

Hermione glanced over at him and was tempted to laugh. It was as if he didn't know how he ought to act around her in public and so he had shoved his hands awkwardly into his pockets.

"How so?" she asked.

"I'm hardly an _international_ Quidditch star," he said, "and besides, only you had a drink. I just sat with you."

"Semantics," she waved a hand. "Oh, I haven't eaten here before. You?"

"No," he said as they arrived at the restaurant Astoria had told him of. He opened the door. "After you."

"Thanks," Hermione said, walking inside. She stopped short, looking askance at him. "This is very... posh."

The establishment was very high end and somewhat pretentious with ornate furnishings and elaborate crystal chandeliers. The lighting was dim and the atmosphere was particularly intimate.

"Draco!" Astoria said as she walked over. "Miss Granger."

"Call me Hermione, please," Hermione said.

Astoria briefly kissed them both on each cheek and Hermione followed suit, feeling ridiculous as she always did in the presence of pureblood customs. Astoria looked as beautiful as Hermione remembered from the time they had met at St. Mungo's. Hermione was especially glad she had gone home to change into something nice after work.

"Hermione, I believe you know Theo," Astoria said, and Hermione just then noticed the tall, dark-haired man at Astoria's side. She recognized him from Hogwarts but hadn't seen him in almost ten years. He was looking rather nervous.

"Yes, good to see you," Hermione said, extending a hand. Nott shook it, looking somewhat relieved. Whether at Hermione's easy acceptance or the fact that she hadn't felt obliged to kiss him on the cheeks as well, she wasn't certain.

"And you," he responded shortly.

Hermione glanced at Malfoy who shrugged; he obviously didn't know the other man was going to be there either. As they all sat at a table, all flickering candlelight and tinkly music, she couldn't help but notice it was a very romantic setting and with the four of them it felt suspiciously like a double date.

Malfoy must have thought the same as he seemed tense and uncomfortable, looking around at the other patrons. Surprisingly it was he who broke the silence after they were all seated.

"Where's Scorpius?" he asked, looking at Astoria.

"He is with Daphne," Astoria replied. "They are doing a bit of shopping then she is taking him home."

"Good," Malfoy nodded, taking a long drink of water.

"Hermione, Draco tells me you've received a promotion at St. Mungo's," Astoria said, turning her green eyes to the brunette. "That must be exciting."

"Very much so," Hermione responded, grateful for a topic she could contribute to. "As a Senior Healer I will have an office to pursue my own research, including spell and potion development."

"I was never very good at Potions, I'm afraid," Astoria said, "but Theo is an accomplished Potioneer."

The woman placed a slender hand on Nott's arm, gazing at him with a serene smile. Nott kissed her on the cheek, returning the look.

Hermione felt a jolt in her stomach. It was evident the two were very much in love. Hermione was reminded of something Malfoy had said the night he told her about Scorpius and Astoria. _He understands her situation, difficult as it is._ The feeling in her stomach turned to an uncomfortable knot.

"When is your next match, Draco?" Nott asked, turning to the blond seated at Hermione's left.

"Friday," Malfoy responded. "Harpies. Always interesting."

"We should go," Nott said, nodding. He glanced at Astoria. "Scorpius would love it. He's always talking about seeing you play more often."

"I'll get you tickets," Malfoy said without hesitation.

Hermione glanced between the three, realizing what a strange dynamic there must be among them. Malfoy being Scorpius' father, but yet his school mate was also in the boy's life as a sort of father figure, who potentially saw him more often given that Scorpius spent more time with Astoria than he did Draco.

If there was any tension or animosity regarding the situation, it was either long ago worked out or else ignored for Hermione's sake.

Recalling the way he had talked about Astoria, Hermione suspected it was the former and she felt a surge of respect for the blond beside her.

A waiter walked over with menus and while the two men continued their discussion of the upcoming Quidditch match, Hermione silently perused her menu. More than once she noticed Astoria looking at her and smiled at the younger woman.

Nott had ordered a bottle of wine and Hermione sat sipping her glass as she listened to the conversation.

"You should come with us on Friday, to Draco's match," Astoria said with a smile.

"I have to work late," Hermione said apologetically, though she couldn't quite picture herself attending a Quidditch match with Astoria, Theo and Scorpius.

"That's a shame," Astoria said, "perhaps next time."

Hermione realized quickly, that though it was obvious through her mannerisms that Astoria had been raised as a pureblood – indeed from a house of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, much like Malfoy and Nott – she was far from prejudiced and wasn't the least bit egotistical or arrogant. She understood why Malfoy had suggested she would like Astoria.

Remembering again that he had said his parents hadn't liked her because she wasn't concerned with blood purity was another benefit.

In fact, as the dinner went on Hermione found she was quite enjoying the company, despite feeling a bit the outsider given that these were Malfoy's friends and it wasn't as if they were together. Being out with him felt strange as well. But it was interesting nonetheless to see a glimpse into his overly private life.

The food was delicious and the wine continued to flow, so that by the time they were ready to leave, Hermione's head was starting to feel fuzzy.

As Malfoy insisted on picking up the tab and a small dispute broke out between him and Theo, Hermione excused herself to the loo.

Walking back to meet Malfoy, she realized she was smiling and was considering that maybe they might be able to all meet again sometime, as she really had enjoyed herself quite more than she was expecting.

She stopped short when she determined that he was in conversation with Astoria and as Hermione turned to politely tune out, she realized they were talking about her.

"... very well suited," Astoria's soft voice was saying.

"She's just come out of an engagement," Malfoy said, sounding annoyed. "She isn't looking for anything."

"That was a while ago," Astoria said dismissively. "She _seems_ interested."

"Last we discussed it, she wasn't," Malfoy said, though his tone had softened.

"Things change. Talk to her."

There was a long, uncomfortable pause. It forced Hermione to come to terms with the truth that she was eavesdropping on a very personal conversation.

"Maybe it's me," Malfoy said finally. "Maybe I don't know if I'm ready to go there."

"Draco, you and I separated over two years ago and in that time I haven't seen you give anyone a real chance," Astoria said. "If you aren't ready after all this time –"

"With _her_ ," he clarified.

Hermione felt like she'd been hit by a Bludger. She supposed this was what she got for listening in on conversations.

"I think you're in denial," Astoria said, rather indelicately.

"She's so... _good_ ," he explained. "I don't mean to hold her back. I keep asking myself, how can I expect her to ever completely forget what I –"

Malfoy dropped the thought instantly and Hermione could see that Nott had walked up. As the dark-haired man looked at her, his expression thoughtful, Hermione suspected he might have overheard part of their discussion too, and knew she had been listening.

Feeling rather humiliated, Hermione walked over to join them but found it difficult to make eye contact with either Astoria or Malfoy.

"Thank you for the invitation," Hermione said to Astoria as they left the restaurant. "I had a lovely time."

"As did I," the other woman beamed. "I do hope you'll join us again sometime. Feel free to owl me anytime."

The younger woman leaned in to kiss Hermione's cheeks again though the brunette felt far less awkward this time, despite the conversation she had just overheard. Hermione said goodbye to Nott as well then turned to walk to the nearest Apparition point with the blond.

She didn't particularly feel like talking after what she had overheard and he seemed distracted anyways so they walked in a slightly uncomfortable silence. She tried to determine what he had been about to say. To forget what he had done? What he had been?

Was he concerned she wouldn't accept him? Was he worried he would end up hurt? Maybe he didn't want to commit himself to her with the expectation she could never feel the same? That she was simply using him and would eventually grow bored?

She didn't know how to answer those questions; as it was, she had no place knowing those were his thoughts and all she knew was that she did care about him on some level, some amount.

All she knew was that he had set aside who he used to be and Hermione was more than willing to follow his example, if that's what he wanted. But she wasn't sure that _was_ what he wanted.

As they arrived back at their building and walked down the corridor, Hermione forced a bright smile and it seemed as if he did the same. She certainly didn't want to let anything on.

"Well, tonight wasn't so bad after all," Hermione said, attempting to lighten the mood. "You were right, Astoria is wonderful."

"Yes, she is," he agreed. He looked undecided, as if he didn't know whether or not to invite her over.

"I'm exhausted," she said before he could say anything else. "And I've got to be at work early tomorrow. Have a nice night."

"Same to you," he said, lips pursed as he turned and walked into his flat.

As Hermione walked into her own, collapsing on the couch, she ran the overheard conversation through her mind again, despite not particularly wanting to think on it any further.

She couldn't quite shake the sinking feeling that maybe the awkwardness that had just hung heavy between them wouldn't dissipate easily. The thought that he might no longer want to see her in their usual capacity – or in any capacity made her nervous.

Hell, it made her more than nervous. It hurt in a deep-seated, significant way that Hermione wasn't willing to unpack just yet. Or possibly ever. She had grown to appreciate him as a friend if nothing more, though she would be lying to herself to say that it was nothing more.

With an uneasy mind, Hermione eventually drifted off to a restless sleep, her sleep assaulted by nightmares with more voracity than she had experienced in months.

* * *

Hermione had almost forgotten about Malfoy's visit to her new office the morning before. As it was, she was doing her best to put him to the back of her mind the next day at work. Which was made all the more difficult by the flocks of female healers that were coming out of the woodwork all day.

Hermione had been so busy with only a handful of patients the day before she had been able to avoid most of the inane hallway gossip. Apparently her seeming avoidance of the topic had only made things worse.

"How do you know Draco Malfoy?" a girl with wide eyes and a blonde plait asked Hermione as she and two colleagues approached the brunette early in the morning.

"We went to Hogwarts together," Hermione said, sighing with restrained impatience. "He's a friend."

Though she wasn't entirely sure about the last anymore, after the night before. Perhaps she was making the situation to be worse than it truly was. Surely they would be able to discuss it later or on the weekend? Maybe Hermione would even finally be able to summon all of her courage and talk to him about where they were at?

"Well, why was he here to see you?" another of the Junior Healers asked, as the three hurried to keep up with Hermione as she walked briskly through the hall, intent to lose the pack of girls.

"I Healed him a few weeks ago after he was in a Quidditch accident," Hermione lied quickly. "Some of the bones healed irregularly and he needed a re-mending potion."

It wasn't a complete lie – that sometimes did happen though it was infrequent. And it wasn't an issue that Malfoy had dealt with.

If she had told them the _actual_ truth – that he had been there to invite her to dinner with his ex-wife and her boyfriend – Hermione would never hear the end of it. Besides, she knew how he liked to keep his personal business private.

"Is he dating anyone?" the girl with the plait asked, her eyebrows high. It gave Hermione the impression of a lost deer.

"Not so far as I'm aware," Hermione said, her irritation catching up with her as she consulted her charts.

"Well, can you introduce us?" the girl asked, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and why hadn't Hermione thought to suggest such a thing.

Hermione felt the last of her patience break away and she stopped walking, turning on her heel to the nattering girl.

"I cannot," she said sharply, "and beyond that, he is very busy with his Quidditch career. Much as I am with mine. So if you'll please excuse me."

With that she walked away from the girls, ignoring their scandalized huffs and whispers.

"Healer Granger," came another voice from behind her. Hermione nearly sighed in exasperation except it was a male voice. She turned to see Healer McTavish.

"Good morning, sir," she said, falling into step with her superior.

"Morning," he said in a clipped tone. "Hand me your charts, please."

Hermione did as he asked, offering her patient charts which doubled as a timetable of sorts. The man waved his wand and the schedule updated to include her personal research time. Hermione knew there was potential to do more healing research and less applied healing over time. There were a couple long-term Senior Healers who provided such valuable research to the hospital that they spent very little time with patients. Hermione enjoyed working with patients, however.

"Brilliant, thank you," she said, smiling.

"Have you determined your proposed research topic yet?"

"I've got it narrowed to three," she admitted. "I will have a proposal submitted to you by the end of the day."

"Very good, I look forward to it," McTavish said with a nod. He turned without another word and was gone.

Hermione briefly consulted the changes made to her charts. She was allowed a portion of time each day to pursue her own work. She carried on her way once more to her assigned room to assess and treat her first patient of the day.

* * *

Hermione sucked the end of her sugar quill as she sat, deep in thought. She wrote the final lines of her proposal in tight cursive, rubbing absently at the old scar on her forearm as she re-read her work.

She had decided to begin her academic work with a study on mind healing and the Cruciatus curse. Partly because it was a very personal subject not only to her and some of her dear friends – Neville had come to mind many times – but because there was woefully little understanding of the topic. Maybe if they knew more the closed wards wouldn't be so full.

Hermione knew it wasn't necessarily for lack of trying – others had attempted to determine exactly what it was about the curse that caused the mind to wither away – and so it was a risk to undertake research that might be so challenging and stir doubt among her peers. But then again, when had Hermione Granger refused an academic challenge?

Pleased with her proposal, she walked to Healer McTavish's office and dropped it off on his desk. Then she walked to the Apparition point and went home, mentally exhausted from a long day.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** Hello! Here's a new chapter, up early because you all overwhelmed me with your love and comments. I really can't say how much it means and how much I appreciate hearing from you all. xoxo

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

Hermione didn't see Malfoy following dinner with Astoria until Friday as she was leaving for the hospital, later than usual as she had to work the evening shift. He was locking his front door as she walked into the corridor and he didn't notice her right away.

"Good day," she murmured, unsure where they currently stood.

"Granger," he said in response, jumping slightly as if she had surprised him. "How are you?"

"I'm well, thank you," she said, "and you?"

"Very good."

Hermione sighed. So stiff and formal it was still.

"Well, good luck in your match against the Harpies tonight," she said, making to walk past him. He glanced at her as if surprised she had remembered before the look passed.

"Granger," he said, catching her arm as she walked by, "Look. We should talk."

Hermione felt a clenching in her stomach at those dreaded words. She had time until she was due to be at work but not a lot of it.

She looked at him expectantly. He sighed, tugging her closer, his hand still on her wrist.

"Do you think we should stop – what we do?" he asked, his grey eyes narrowed.

"That depends," Hermione said, politely extracting her wrist from her hand. She would not be able to think clearly if he was touching her in any capacity.

"Depends on what?" he asked, mouth drawn.

"Malfoy," she said, meeting his eyes, frowning. "We aren't on the same page anymore, are we?"

"Not sure," he murmured, looking away from her. He dug the toe of his boot into the floor with some interest.

"Let's face it. Things are blurry. There have been a lot of _weird situations_ ," she said, referencing what he had said the last time they had discussed it. "If we aren't both okay with that, then..."

She trailed off, not wanting to vocalize the words. Her fears. The doubts that she knew he also shared.

"You didn't want to get involved with anyone," he said, softly, meeting her eyes once more. "After Weasley."

"I know," she said, biting her lip. "I'm past what happened with Ron. Neither did you, if I recall."

He stared at her for a long moment, grey eyes unblinking. He stepped forward, playing with some loose curls of her hair and Hermione's eyes fell shut against her will.

"You recall correctly," he finally said and Hermione's eyes jolted open. "My life is very routine. I don't want things to be any more difficult and confusing for Scorpius than they already are. Perhaps most importantly, Granger, how could things ever work with us? How could you ever be okay to be seen with me?"

"By realizing that you aren't the same person you were at Hogwarts, or during the war," she said softly, horrified to feel tears welling in her eyes. "You've made a different life for yourself and you need to give yourself more credit."

"There are still many who remember me only for my past crimes and my family name," he said. "I couldn't ask you to deal with that. Selfishly, I wouldn't want you to be ashamed of me."

"I wouldn't be ashamed of you," she said, feeling slightly affronted, "how do you even think I could?"

"By knowing what's still in my heart, some days," he said, his eyes closed. Hermione wasn't sure she had ever seen him this vulnerable. She realized his casual joking about them the other day at the Leaky Cauldron hadn't been a joke at all.

"I wish you could see yourself the way I see you," Hermione said, feeling as if something within her had broken. She wanted to touch him but refrained.

"Maybe I just need some more time to think," he said, looking at her honestly, "I'm sorry."

"Okay," she said softly, at a loss of what else to say. Because hadn't she at least partially seen this coming? "If you want to talk later... you know where I live."

She gave him a half smile, attempting to lighten the mood, grateful when he returned the smile.

"That I do," he said. "We will talk."

"After you've had more time," Hermione supplied. He nodded. "I understand. Play well tonight."

Hesitantly she gave him a brief kiss on the cheek before walking out to the Apparition point, though the last thing she felt like doing was working. She wished she could say more but she was still just as confused about where they were at.

Apparating to St. Mungo's, she shook her head free of the thoughts and walked in to see her first patient of the day.

* * *

Hermione had been invited for dinner at Grimmauld Place with Harry and Ginny that Sunday.

She left the building and Apparated to Grimmauld earlier than necessary. She was very much looking forward to dinner and a visit with friends. She had had very little to distract her during the weekend from the last conversation she'd had with Malfoy and couldn't help replaying it through her mind over and over. She hadn't seen him since.

"Hermione," Ginny said, enveloping the older girl in a hug.

"Hey Gin, so good to see you," Hermione said, relaxing into the embrace.

"Same to you, of course," Ginny said, withdrawing and holding Hermione at arms' length. "You need to come over more often. You look thin."

"More like her mum every day, isn't she, Herms?" Harry asked, walking into the entry way and hugging Hermione as well. "You _are_ looking thin."

"I've been working an awful lot lately," she admitted, "sometimes I forget to eat."

"How do you forget to eat?" Ginny scoffed.

Hermione shared a quick glance with Harry. There had been times, while Horcrux hunting, during the time that Ron had left, that they would forget about food until they had to sleep due to exhaustion, and only then realized they had hardly eaten that day. Some days not at all.

"Caught up in my work, I suppose," Hermione said.

"Did you get the promotion?" Harry asked, suddenly remembering.

"Yes, I did," she responded, beaming. "I submitted my first research topic a few days ago and should hear this week whether it's approved."

"Congratulations, though I'm not surprised," Harry said.

"Neither am I," Ginny said, "Hermione Granger, a professional medical researcher – that St. Mungo's library won't know what hit it."

"Isn't it amazing?" Hermione said, grinning widely.

"Speaking of amazing," Harry said, "we have some news, too."

Hermione looked between the two of them, her friends both smiling and her jaw dropped.

"Are you pregnant Gin?" she said, eyes wide.

"Yes," the girl responded excitedly. "We just found out."

Hermione hugged her friends each again, her eyes stinging with instant, unshed tears. She was extremely happy for them and couldn't wait to be an unofficial auntie – but there was a part of her that felt even further from that possibility for herself than before.

"Come on, dinner's ready," Ginny said, wiping her own eyes, ushering Harry and Hermione into the dining room.

* * *

Hermione relaxed in her seat following dinner, uncomfortably full as Ginny had kept pushing more food at her.

She was listening to Harry and Ginny explaining their plans to go watch the Quidditch World Cup finals the following weekend. Hermione felt another unpleasant jolt in her stomach at the mention of Quidditch but didn't want to seem rude and so contributed as much as she possibly could.

"You wouldn't believe how much the tickets were," Harry was saying. "I didn't realize that time we went with the Weasleys."

"You won't see me paying for a ticket," Hermione joked. "You know I don't have much interest in Quidditch."

"Speaking of Quidditch, Hermione," Harry turned to her, a stern look on his features, "why did I have to learn from Ginny that you're living next door to Malfoy?"

"Because I knew you would overreact," she said pointedly. She gave a look to the redhead, who feigned innocence, staring intently back at Hermione. "He isn't that bad, anymore, really. Mostly keeps to himself."

"And I suppose him getting into a brawl with Ron in the corridor was him "keeping to himself", was it?" Harry asked, one eyebrow raised above the rim of his glasses.

"Ron was making a nuisance of himself," Hermione said dismissively. "It's no surprise he woke up Malfoy."

"Right," Harry said, looking disbelieving. Sometimes it was difficult to fool the over-attentive Auror. "Wonder if Malfoy's been in shite for the way he played on Friday."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, forgetting she was pretending to be disinterested. "Did his team lose?"

"Nearly," Harry said, taking a sip of his firewhisky, "they only won because their Seeker beat the Harpies' to the Snitch. The Chasers had a really bad night. To almost lose to the Harpies when the Harpies are near the bottom of the league and the Falcons are at the top..."

Hermione largely tuned Harry out as he continued talking about league stats. Malfoy had played badly on Friday? She wondered if it had anything to do with their conversation that afternoon. She felt a pang of guilt remembering that Scorpius had been there to watch his father play, but to be fair, the boy probably didn't grasp enough of the rules entirely yet and was probably glad to see his dad play regardless.

So caught up in her thoughts, Hermione almost didn't notice the crack of Apparition and glanced up to see Ron had entered the dining room.

Harry and Ginny fell silent from their discussion about the Harpies' Beaters and glanced between Ron and Hermione.

"Hey," Ron said, staring at Hermione.

"Hello, Ron."

Hermione watched him for a moment, looking uncomfortable as if he had walked in on something private. She didn't think he was drunk, at least, this time.

"I can go," he said, "I didn't realize –"

"It's okay," Hermione said. "I won't be staying all that much longer."

"Do you suppose we could talk?" he asked, looking rather nervous. Hermione felt a dull pang in her heart for this man she had loved for so many years.

"We can talk for a few minutes," Hermione acquiesced. She supposed it was time to hear him out, even if just to hopefully let go of the bad feelings between them. She stood to lead Ron from the room, where Harry and Ginny were both still looking rather awkward.

"I really messed up, and I'm sorry," Ron blurted as soon as they reached the sitting room. Hermione sat on a chair while he took a seat on the couch.

"I appreciate you saying that, Ron," Hermione responded. "But I'm afraid you can't take it back and we can't try again."

"I realize that now," he said. "I tried putting myself in your shoes and I don't think I would be able to forget it either, were the tables turned."

"I _hate_ what it's done to our friendship," Hermione said, biting her lip. "If you weren't happy, I wish you would have just told me and we could have tried to work something out."

"I didn't know I wasn't happy at the time," Ron said, sounding miserable. "I never meant to ruin our friendship either, or put Harry and Ginny and everyone in the middle."

"Well," Hermione said, after a long pause, "I suppose I can accept that, even if I don't agree with how you went about things. If you stop hounding me to get back together, I will do my best to put this mess behind us. You were my best friend for a long time, Ron, and it's been hard to lose that."

"I know, me too," he said, rubbing at his face. "I'll stop hounding you. I owe you that much. I hope one day we can get back to how things were, before."

"I do too, Ron." Hermione gave him a tentative smile. "And I'm glad we've talked it through, I just – wasn't ready before. I don't think either of us were."

"You're right, as always," Ron grinned. "Now get over here."

He stood and gave her a brief, awkward hug. Hermione pulled back, laughing at the trace of the old Ron that had emerged.

They walked back into the dining room and Hermione found herself more willing to stay a bit longer and the four of them were able to get back to some semblance of a normal conversation, which hadn't been the case since before her and Ron broke up.

For some reason, as Hermione Apparated herself home at the end of the evening, she felt a lot better about the way things had been going to remember that she still had her friends, even if her and Ron would take more effort to get back to that place.

* * *

"Draco," Narcissa snapped and Draco glanced up sharply.

"Yes?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

His mother had insisted he meet her for early tea Monday at a posh little teahouse in London she was fond of, despite his assurances that he was indeed quite busy.

"Where is your head at?" Narcissa asked with some measure of disdain. "I haven't seen you this... _affected_ since your father went to Azkaban."

"Its nothing," Draco replied, "just thinking of my next match."

His mother stared at him for a moment before her lips curved into a smile.

"Please, Draco," she said, sipping her tea, "why you insist on treating me as if I'm daft, I'll never know."

"I don't," he said, scowling. His mother had an uncanny way of always seeing through him.

"You haven't listened to a single word I've said," she continued conversationally. She set down her teacup. "Who is she?"

Draco narrowed his eyes, briefly contemplating his options. Narcissa Malfoy was not the type to be easily swayed or misled.

"It might be nothing," he said. "It's – undetermined, right now."

"If it was nothing, you wouldn't be so distracted," Narcissa said. "Clearly it's something. So what makes it undetermined?"

Draco let out a heavy breath. Why _was_ it undetermined?

The more he had thought about Granger and their situation over the past days, the more he wondered why exactly he was holding back. It had become apparent that she wasn't _just_ a good shag anymore, but he wasn't sure he was ready to take the remarkable leap of faith involved with a new relationship.

The confusing part was that she seemed to be alright with it.

It seemed every wall he had built up to keep this from happening was crumbling around him. Scorpius seemed to like her – he had even asked about her the day before when he had been over. Her career kept her just as busy as his did and she never pressed his schedule.

The last one, the most significant one – the one that he suspected led to a fear of being hurt – was how bloody morally superior she was. While he had hid away during the events of the war, hiding behind cowardice and the chains enforced by his blood, she had been a shining example of standing on her beliefs.

Granger was a genuine hero – and Draco had nearly faced a prison sentence. While she had pursued a career which would help people, Draco worked toward one he happened to be good at.

While he knew, deep down, he wasn't that scared boy anymore, there were those still unwilling to let it be forgotten. Those who still looked down on his family name, despite his best efforts.

He simply didn't intend to pull her into that. To allow her to be seen as anything but the amazing woman he knew her to be. But he couldn't _stop thinking_ about her.

Did he like Granger? Yes. Did he want to be with her, somewhere in his heart?

"Draco," Narcissa said again, amusement painting her features now. "I don't believe I've ever seen you like this."

"She wasn't on our side," Draco said, settling for a rough truth. "I don't know how it could work. If she can ever really let it go."

"In a war that culminated nearly a decade ago, you mean," Narcissa said casually, sipping her tea once more. "I know I don't need to tell you how much has changed since then."

"I mean," Draco said, "that she _very prominently_ fought with Harry Potter."

"I don't understand the issue," Narcissa said, impatient. "Does she like you?"

"I think she does, but I don't know to what extent," he admitted.

"Have you considered asking her?" his mother asked. Draco rolled his eyes.

"I told her I needed to think about it," he said.

"You're stubborn as your father," Narcissa said, shaking her head. "You're basing a decision for your future – and hers – on your inability to let go of the past. If she's accepted you into her life, Draco, she's accepted your past."

"It's more complicated than that," he insisted, feeling as if his argument were being dismantled rather quickly.

"Why, does she hate Scorpius?" the woman asked.

"No, she likes him," Draco said. "And he likes her."

"Well then, what is it?" Narcissa asked, clearly growing tired of the conversation. "Is she Potter's Muggle-born friend or something ridiculous like that?"

Draco pursed his lips, tilted his head and stared at his mother.

"Oh," Narcissa commented. " _Oh_. The one that... Bellatrix."

"Yes, the one Bellatrix tortured in our old house." Draco ran a hand through his hair. "I can't fathom what she sees in me."

"She sees a wonderful man, who has grown from his past mistakes, is dedicated and caring and exceedingly committed to his family." His mother raised a perfectly arched brow. "How did this even come to be?"

"I'm not giving you the details," he said, deadpan. "It started very... casual. And somehow led to more."

"She knows about your past? And Astoria?" Narcissa asked.

"She didn't even blink," Draco said, shaking his head. "I couldn't believe it. She and Astoria are becoming _friends_."

"Muggles divorce all the time," Narcissa said, waving a hand, "she wouldn't find that unusual."

"And you would be fine with it?" Draco asked, pressing her. "If we were to one day be married, you would have a Muggle-born daughter-in-law."

"It's that serious, now, is it?" Narcissa asked, amused again. "Draco, one of the biggest things I've come to regret is losing so many years with Andromeda simply because she married a Muggle-born. The way I see it, you have a woman who is willing to overlook your past and your flaws and is interested in starting a life with you, who you are clearly also interested in. Why on _earth_ are you still talking to me about it?"

* * *

By Tuesday of the coming week, Hermione was able to begin putting Malfoy to the back of her mind, despite the fact that she didn't want to give up hope but she still hadn't seen or heard from him.

She walked the halls of St. Mungo's, her mind drifting just slightly as she walked to her office for her personal research time, though until McTavish either accepted or denied her research proposal, she had little to do. She had spent her time the day before preparing her potions station and supplies cupboards and brewed a batch of pain potions. Mungo's, it seemed, was constantly running out of potions.

"Granger," McTavish said as he met her outside of her office. Obviously he had known this was her research time.

"Hello, Healer McTavish," she greeted the man as he followed her in. "Have you had a chance to look over my proposal?"

"That's why I'm here," he said, nodding. "Take a seat."

Hermione sat at her desk as he took a seat in the chair on the other side. The man assessed her for a long moment before speaking.

"I hope you realize the gravity of the topic you intend to study," he said, head tilted. "You will not be the first to attempt to dismantle the issues we face with victims of the Cruciatus curse."

"I realize that, sir, and I have in fact familiarized myself with the past research on the topic," she assured her senior, "though I do believe the answers may lie perhaps in the physical, rather than the magical. Given the way the nerve endings react to the curse, I believe it may be more scientific than past research suggests."

"I see what you're suggesting," McTavish said, "and I don't doubt you are intelligent enough to find answers where others have not. This is also a very sensitive topic to many people. Are you able to deal with that? Some of your research may lead to the study of some of our closed ward patients."

"It is a sensitive topic to me, as well," she murmured softly. "I was subjected to the Cruciatus curse myself when I was eighteen by Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Merlin," Healer McTavish said, running a hand through his hair. "I wasn't aware. Then I realize you understand more than I've expected. I will grant my permission for you to undertake this study, though I will have to ask for periodic updates."

"Of course," Hermione obliged quickly, "I would have regardless."

"Very well," the man stood to leave her office, "I do hope you succeed. It could affect many lives."

With that he left and Hermione was caught with a sudden nervous excitement. She knew, of course, it would not be an easy topic but she was eager to get going. She rarely had cause to visit the St. Mungo's library, though that did not mean she didn't frequent it even so.

She briefly drafted a list of topics to start with and made her way to the library, feeling a pang of nostalgia for all the times she had ventured out to the Hogwarts library to research some topic or other. It had been so long but she still remembered the way the scent of the books had enveloped her, the way her favourite chair in an alcove by one of the fires had felt.

Once more, she felt the pain of missing out on her seventh year, knowing it represented so much more. It was the loss of innocence, prematurely, that she had faced with Ron and Harry. The way they had been forced down a path that none of them wanted to travel.

She didn't quite know what was wrong with her at a sudden welling of emotion and shook it off. She suspected it had a lot to do with the minor reconciliation she had been able to achieve with Ron the weekend before. Coupled, though she had tried so hard to push it aside, with the sadness at her situation with Malfoy, which, if she was honest, was rather more emotionally trying than anything else.

Setting it all delicately aside to a compartment of her mind, Hermione set off for the St. Mungo's library, which was impressive, but could never quite match the grandeur of her favourite place in Hogwarts Castle.

* * *

Draco slammed the remains of his third firewhisky, Wednesday night, trying to ignore the amused look on Theo's face.

"When are you going to get over yourself and talk to her?" the dark-haired ex-Slytherin asked.

"I don't know," Draco grumbled. "You're starting to sound like my mother."

"Well, your mother always did know a thing or two," Theo said casually. "Here's my thoughts, though I know you don't want them. The fact that you two ever even _thought_ that you could just fuck and that would be it is the daftest thing I've heard in my life. Especially coming from two smart individuals."

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, gesturing to the barmaid for another whisky.

"Hermione Granger," Theo held up a hand, and then the other, "and Draco Malfoy. You two have so much bloody history I'm surprised you haven't drowned in the flood of it. There is _no way_ that was ever going to work."

"It worked for a while," Draco grumbled.

"Operative word there being _worked_ ," Theo said dismissively, "and are you even sure about that?"

"No," Draco said miserably.

"Casual sex might work – if it was someone you didn't know, and it ended before either of you got too attached. But honestly, there was so much heat and tension between the two of you even in school, I don't see how you didn't expect this."

"You're infuriating, do you know that?" Draco asked.

"It's why you keep me around," Theo said, smirking.

"You're _kept_ around because you're with the mother of my child," Draco reminded him.

"Who thinks you're crazy, by the way," Theo carried on.

"Well, she already knew that, she had to put up with being married to me," Draco scoffed.

"All I'm saying is, everyone but you already knows this is going to happen," Theo said, knowingly.

"It isn't that I _don't_ want it to happen, you know?" Draco said.

"I understand exactly what it is," Theo said, his tone suddenly serious and soft. "I know you, Draco."

 _That_ was why Draco kept him around.

"I'll talk to her tomorrow," Draco said with finality as the waitress arrived with his drink. "We'll air all this _fucking nonsense_ and it'll work or it won't."

"It'll work," said Theo.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** Thanks as always for all the wonderful love and support for this fic. It has surpassed anything I could have imagined. This is for all you lovely readers who share in this story with me. I hope you enjoy.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

There was a soft knock at the door, Thursday evening. For a second Hermione thought she might have even imagined it.

He stood there, leaning on the door frame, eyes turned to the ground, a chunk of blond hair hanging in his face. It had been nearly a week since she had seen him other than the morning before though there had been little more than a brief and awkward hello shared between them.

He glanced up and met her eyes and Hermione nearly looked away. He stared at her for a long moment before he sighed.

"Perhaps," he drawled, "we should get to know one another better."

"Really?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes, really," he said with a smirk. "Unless you're busy."

Hermione flushed, realizing she had been staring blankly.

"Not at all, come in," she said. He awkwardly stepped over the threshold as if it had been much longer since he had been over. "Tea?"

"Sure, tea would be lovely," he said with amusement. He took a seat at her kitchen table, something he had never done. Hermione fumbled with the kettle briefly before starting the tea. She sat down across from him.

"What would you like to know about?" she asked, wishing the awkward tension would pass. She realized he hadn't openly shared much since he had told her about Scorpius and Astoria.

He was fidgeting with the corner of a place-mat set out on her table. If she didn't know better she would have thought he looked nervous.

"What's your favourite colour?" he asked, the corner of his lips curving into a smile.

"Yellow," she said, smiling. "Yours?"

"Green," he said as if she should have known. "Your favourite Quidditch team?"

"Falcons," she replied with a grin.

"Good girl," he said softly, "mine too."

He leaned forward, his arms folded on the table in front of him.

"It occurred to me, Granger, that I still know very little about you after this long. And I don't mean trivial things like your favourite colour," he made a face, "but I am interested in getting to know you better."

"That's fair," she said, not quite sure what this all meant.

"Why don't you tell me about how you got into healing?" He was watching her curiously now.

"Well, first I had to finish my NEWTs, which was a bit of a pain, to be honest," she began. "Since I had missed seventh year I was able to take a remedial course offered at the Ministry the summer following the war for students who had been unable to finish their exams."

"Oh right," he said, thinking back. "I considered it but I could hardly go anywhere without being hexed at the time. Besides, Quidditch doesn't require NEWTs."

"Really?" she asked, looking at him sadly. He shrugged.

"I was being tried for Death Eater activity, of course people didn't take well to seeing me out and about," he murmured. "But go on."

"Right, well I knew I wanted to be a healer after the war ended. Harry went into Auror training and Ron took over at the joke shop with George after Fred – well it was the first time I was pursuing something on my own." She sighed, remembering back to a time that she usually tried to forget. "I just wanted to do something worthwhile, something that would help people. Healing is wonderful, of course, but I'm thrilled to be able to do my own research as well."

"Of course," he said, "and you'll be great at that too."

"Thanks," she said, flushing. "What about you? How did you become the best chaser in the world?"

"I'm not the best chaser in the world," he scoffed, "that's just silly. I always liked chasing growing up but when I was in school my father demanded I play seeker to try and defeat Potter. So when I had a choice I took up chasing again. Like I've told you before, it took a _lot_ of practice and hard work. I played for the Appleby Arrows originally and was recruited to play for England in the last world cup season. But Scorpius was just a baby then and after that I didn't want to do both. A couple years ago I was offered significantly more to play with the Falcons and took it."

He shrugged. Hermione suspected he was being modest but he always seemed to be that way when it came to Quidditch.

"Was Quidditch your first choice?" she asked. He stared at her for a long moment, considering his answer.

The kettle began to whistle. Hermione jumped, having forgotten about it. She quickly poured them both a cup and sat back down.

"When I was young, I wanted to work in the Ministry, believe it or not," he shrugged. "Granger, look at it this way. I was sixteen when I was given the Mark and commanded a task that I knew I wouldn't be able to complete. I didn't expect I would live to finish school and if I did I certainly wouldn't have been able to choose a career. The only thing I had waiting for me was servitude."

Hermione stared at him, her eyes wide, cup of tea forgotten halfway to her lips. She set the cup down, swallowing heavily. He had never broached the subject of the war and his involvement.

"So," he continued, looking uncomfortable, "when I found myself suddenly free of that future, and not even in Azkaban, mind you, I didn't quite know what to make of it. Quidditch was a bit of an escape, at first. I barely knew Astoria at the time and threw myself into it. It turned out I became quite good and was scouted by the Arrows and the rest is history."

"That's very interesting," she said, surprised to hear herself say that about Quidditch.

"My turn," he said, watching her with that calculating look again. "Why did you give me a chance? Understandably that night at the club we were both intoxicated but you could have walked away and never spoken to me again. You don't shy away from my Mark, you never questioned anything I told you about Astoria; I would have expected you to have every reason to run from me."

Hermione blinked, not sure where to begin.

"That night at the club, something seemed different about you. I like to think I still possessed enough of my faculties at the time you approached me that I would have walked away if not for that. You weren't hateful and bigoted and arrogant, all the things I thought I knew about you. I was a little intrigued," she admitted. She hesitated. "In the Muggle world, divorce and single parents are commonplace. Maybe that's why I never found it that unusual what you shared about your relationship with Astoria. I do realize that most pureblood girls would find that incredibly strange."

"And?" he asked, noting that she had skirted around part of the question. He rolled up his sleeve, boldly displaying his forearm, his brow furrowed.

Hermione bit her lip. How could she answer that question when she didn't even know the answer? She tentatively reached out to touch the scar tissue that used to be his Mark. It sent a shiver down her spine.

"I guess I faced so many Death Eaters, ones that were _so_ committed to their cause, and like I said, I realized you had changed. I didn't think you ever truly wanted that life," she drew her hand back, looking to his eyes. "We all came out of the war with scars. While I hated your family, you were still young. It didn't make up for the things you had done and the way you treated me in school, but you were mean, not evil."

He was silent, deep in thought.

"Your aunt," she said, pausing to take a deep breath. "She gave me nightmares for years. Still does, sometimes. That day at your house. I can't compare you to evil like that."

Malfoy exhaled a deep breath and gently reached for her arm. He ran his fingers over the scarred letters, tracing them absently.

"Every time I see this I feel sick," he said. "Because I was there but I was too afraid to do anything. _He_ was around the Manor so often; some of things I was forced to watch and to do, just to try and keep my family safe. I knew what Bellatrix was doing was so wrong but I didn't know how to stop her."

"I don't blame you," she said softly, almost a whisper. "You saved Harry from being killed that day. That's the difference."

He still held her arm in his hand, his thumb running over the skin that had never quite healed. He looked lost.

"Draco," she said, feeling odd to say his given name. He glanced up in surprise. She caught his grey gaze, his brow furrowed. " _I don't blame you_. You aren't like them. You weren't then and you aren't now. That's why you deserve another chance."

She didn't know quite what she was meaning to say with regards to another chance. Life? Happiness? Maybe another chance for them?

He didn't speak for a long moment, still holding her arm in his hand.

"Mother and I sold the Manor, you know," he stated. "After my Father went to Azkaban. Neither of us felt comfortable there anymore. It took Cursebreakers over a month to declare it even fit to be sold and lived in."

"That's why you're living here," Hermione said. She had wondered on occasion but hadn't saw fit to ask.

"Yes," he nodded, "Mother was on house arrest for five years and was mandated to live with my Aunt Andromeda. She lives there still."

"How does she find it?" Hermione asked, curious whether Narcissa Malfoy had been able to accept her so-called blood traitor sister back into her life.

"She enjoys it," he answered, "and it's nice for her to be with her sister again. And my cousin Teddy, I believe you know him as well."

Hermione stared at him for a moment, feeling a wave of memories and sadness wash over her.

"Yes," she finally said, "Remus and Tonks were dear friends. Teddy visits Harry, sometimes."

"Always thought I would have liked Dora," Malfoy made a face. "She seemed a lot of fun but I was never allowed to see her, of course. Teddy absolutely loves Scorpius. Treats him like a little brother."

Hermione was struck to realize the connection she had never given much thought. If Narcissa was living with Andromeda it only made sense that he would see Teddy.

"Where are your parents?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. "I haven't heard you mention them."

"They are in Australia," she said, a sad smile gracing her features. Noting his confused expression, she continued, "I altered their memories before I left with Harry and Ron to hunt Horcruxes and they believed they had a dream to move to Australia and no longer realized they had a daughter."

"You did?" he asked, quietly. He wore a strange expression as he gazed at her. "And they're still there?"

"They chose to stay," she said, "I was able to undo the spell, fortunately. I visit on occasion, or they come here. But in the end they really did like it there." She shrugged.

"You saved their lives, just so you're aware," he said sharply, catching her eyes in a significant way.

Hermione didn't need him to explain, or particularly want him to. The meaning behind his words was loud and clear; Voldemort and his Death Eaters had indeed gone for her parents but had obviously failed given than they were no longer in the country or in possession of any memories of her.

There was a long silence as Hermione felt the implications sink in. For all the guilt she had harboured through the years, the way they had been upset with her when they had learned, it had in fact been for their safety.

"What about your father?" Hermione asked. "Do you ever see him?"

"I haven't in a long time," he sighed. "Mother visited him a couple times after the war, before she was sentenced but hasn't been back since. His life sentence essentially makes their marriage easily void, if she so chose to meet someone new."

"Has she?" Hermione asked, curious despite herself and her less-than-pleasant memories of the woman. Although it sounded as though she may have turned over a new leaf. Malfoy snorted rather ungracefully.

"She wouldn't tell me if she had," he said. His expression turned serious. "I spoke to her earlier this week. About you."

"Really?" Hermione asked, taken aback. "What about?"

"You know what about," he said, glancing at her from over his cup of tea. The air between them had shifted; grown heavy.

"And what did she say?" she said, throat suddenly very dry.

"She said if you're willing to give me a chance, I shouldn't be afraid to take it," he admitted, giving her a long look. Hermione glanced away, his gaze making her nervous.

"Smart woman," she said softly. He took her hand, intertwining their fingers and Hermione looked back at him.

"I just want to be sure you know what you'd potentially be getting yourself into," he said. "I meant it when I said there are a lot of people in our world who will never accept my family."

"There are an awful lot of people who also respect you for making your own path," she reminded him, "trust me on that."

"Even so, I don't want to put you in any difficult situations," he said defensively.

Hermione shook her head, holding back a smile. While she understood where he was coming from, it simply wasn't an issue to her.

"Do you suppose it'll be more difficult than breaking into Gringotts?" she asked thoughtfully. "Or flying out on the back of an angry, blind dragon? What about spending a year on the run hunting down Horcruxes? Being chased by Death Eaters and Snatchers? Or –"

"I get it," he said, laughing, "you're tougher than I'm giving you credit for. But those were things you felt you had to do. This is a decision you can freely make."

"I realize that," she said, smiling. "And I appreciate the consideration. Simply understand that I'm not afraid of a few people who might say a few unkind things."

He rolled his eyes then grinned and Hermione felt her breath catch.

"By the way," he said, "I expect to hear the real Gringotts dragon story from you one of these days. Not sure if I believe all the rumours that were floating around after the war."

"Oh, the rumours have got nothing on the real story," she said, teasingly then sobered. "Perhaps, you haven't considered that the mud-slingers may see you in a different light if you were with a Muggle-born witch. I do have that Order of Merlin, First Class, after all."

"Perhaps," he said, drawing patterns on the back of her hand.

"So, where do you stand on us now?" Hermione asked, almost a whisper.

"Look, Granger, I like you, more than I could originally admit to myself," he stated, running a hand through his hair. "I'm still a bit confused – but willing to see."

He lifted her hand, still wrapped in his, to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. Hermione felt a flutter in her stomach as his words sunk in.

"I like _you_ ," she murmured, meeting his eyes. "I'm willing to see, too."

"Good," he said softly.

They sat in silence for a long moment, Malfoy sipping his tea thoughtfully and Hermione enjoying the comfortable quiet between them.

"Now, I'm not sure if you've already made plans, but the Quidditch World Cup is this coming weekend," he said, glancing at her.

"Of course I haven't made plans," she scoffed. "You're the only reason I pay attention to Quidditch at all."

"Good, because I've got you a ticket," he informed her. "It's this Saturday. Scotland is hosting and the match is outside of Edinburgh so we'll be able to Floo internationally and then Apparate to the site."

" _What_?" she exclaimed. "What do you mean, you've got me a ticket? What if I don't want to go?"

"Fine." He rolled his eyes but he was smiling. "Would you like to come to the World Cup this weekend?"

"Who's going?" she asked. She recalled Harry and Ginny talking about it but had no interest in traveling internationally just to watch an overpriced Quidditch match.

"Scorp, Astoria and Theo, maybe Daph," he listed, shrugging. "If you don't want to come I'll understand. But I'd like you to, if you're available."

"Aren't the tickets extremely expensive? You didn't need to get me one," she said, flushing.

"I didn't pay for them," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Publicity nonsense. Bloody amazing seats, too."

"I suppose I'll come," she said, smiling. "Who's playing?"

"Honestly, woman," Malfoy said, shaking his head. Then he smirked. "France is playing Canada. Fair warning, though, I'll likely have to deal with some reporters. Supposedly there's speculation that England might have beat Canada in the Semi-final if I was playing."

"Would they have done?" Hermione teased, knowing how much he hated people saying things like that.

"Not likely," he said, dismissively, "it takes more than one chaser to run a strong offense. And Canada played well."

"And who are we cheering for?" she asked, though she really couldn't be arsed over who won or lost. She just wanted to indulge his voracious interest for the moment.

"France, of course," he said delicately. "Canada is far away and cold, and I'm French."

"Well I'm English," she said, grinning, "so I choose far away and cold."

"Of course you would," he said, rolling his eyes again. "I guess we'll see. I'll talk to Astoria tomorrow. Most likely we'll meet them there. She will be excited to see you again."

"As excited as Astoria gets," Hermione said, though she was smiling. "I'm looking forward to seeing her as well."

"She's very good at the pureblood front," he agreed, "but once you get to know her better, you'll see the other side."

Malfoy stared at her for another long moment, the heat of his gaze making Hermione feel indecent. He tugged on her hand, pulling her over to sit in his lap. He dropped his chin to rest on her shoulder, while his hands gripped her hips, possessively.

"I'm glad we talked," he murmured, his lips meeting her collarbone.

"Me too," she said, suddenly breathy. She shifted in his lap, causing him to hiss as she grazed his growing erection.

"It's been too fucking long," he continued, his hands sliding down to squeeze her bum, "since I've got to grab this tight arse."

Hermione groaned, leaning back against his chest, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck as he continued working her neck and shoulders with his lips. Suddenly he stopped, looking up and she turned her head.

"It's late," he said, smirking, "I'd better get going."

"You're not going anywhere," she murmured, turning in his lap to face him, straddling him. She grabbed his face, bringing her lips to his and he kissed back, forcefully, holding her face with one hand, sliding it back into her curls.

Possessed of a sudden abandon, she ground herself against him, feeling a jolt of desire shoot through her at the growl she drew from the back of his throat. He rolled his hips back into her, his tongue clashing with hers, even as he roughly pulled her shirt over her head, breaking from the kiss only as long as necessary before he pulled her back in, biting her lower lip. Desire settled deep in her core.

Hermione fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, biting her lip as he kissed a trail down her jaw to her neck, her collarbone, to the swell of her cleavage. He obliged her in removing his shirt when she pushed it from his shoulders, grinding against him with a harshly expelled breath as his tongue traced the line between her breasts.

She ran her hands down his chest, his gorgeously defined abs, unbuckling his belt and undoing his jeans, desperate to be rid of the clothing between them. In one practiced motion he released the clasp of her bra, leaning down and swirling his tongue around one nipple, taking it into his mouth while his fingers deftly tweaked the other. Her head fell back, her eyes slipping shut at the sensation.

Grabbing her by the hips, he stood her up, continuing to work the sensitive tissue of her breasts for another moment, burying his face between them, his hands playing with the flesh before he stood as well, pulling her closer, meeting her lips again.

He distractedly stumbled them to her bedroom, Hermione pulling his jeans down and he stopped to step out of them, before picking her up and dropping her on the bed. He was back on top of her, teasingly kissing his way down her body. He stopped at her breasts, laving each with his tongue, his hands holding her hips as he traveled further south.

He unzipped her jeans, slowly tugging them off her legs, kissing her hips, her stomach, her thighs. She whimpered at the intoxicating combination of what he was doing and the anticipation. He looked up at her as his fingers toyed with the lace of her knickers, his grey eyes aglow with arousal and Hermione couldn't look away.

He pulled her knickers down, kissing her legs as he went and then he was back at the apex of her thighs, his warm breath making her squirm. He buried his face between her legs, his tongue flicking her sensitive clit, swirling and sucking.

"Draco," she murmured, his given name slipping out without thought.

He lapped up her juices, moving back to the bundle of nerves while he entered her with two fingers, plunging in and out and Hermione was lost to conscious thought as he picked up a rhythm, her hips moving gently in response.

She felt her body tense and tighten as he worked her over, the familiar sensation of her impending orgasm, which he was always so skilled at delivering. He carried on with increased vigour, as if knowing she was close, and she broke over him, gasping his name as waves of pleasure gripped her.

"I like when you call me Draco," he growled, his face still buried between her legs, the words vibrating from his lips against her hyper-sensitive flesh.

"Okay," she breathed, her mind still hazy as she came down from the sexual high.

He pulled himself up along the bed, kissing her unapologetically and Hermione tasted herself on his tongue, sensually.

Brazenly, she reached down, pushing his boxer-briefs from his hips, freeing his hard length from its confines. He kicked them the rest of the way off. She took the glorious appendage in her hand, stroking it appreciatively and he groaned in her mouth. Grasping it more firmly, the way she knew he liked, she ran her thumb over the head, loving the way he shuddered and kissed her harder.

"Fuck, Granger," he whispered, pausing in kissing her for a moment as the feeling overtook him.

"Hermione," she muttered, continuing in her efforts.

" _Fuck, Hermione_ ," he corrected, and the way he drawled her name in the throes of sexuality made her core begin to clench once more as he kissed her again.

She positioned his firm length at her entrance and he needed no further urging than that as he quickly plunged into her, pausing a moment to catch his breath, his eyes fluttering shut.

And as he began to move, working them into a cadence of pleasure and exhilaration, Hermione found that something between them felt differently than it always had. As she threw her head back, arching into him, gasping his name, she felt something within her let go.

And he twisted a hand into her curls, pulling her lips to meet his and Hermione tasted a sweet desperation between them. As he pushed her closer to that unrestricted, wondrous edge, Hermione welcomed it to break upon her, feeling closer to him than she ever had. When it did and Hermione's vision went black, and he followed shortly after and collapsed beside her, she simply felt _right_.

Falling asleep, her legs tangled with his, secure in his arms, Hermione clung to him like never before.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:** The love for this fic, quite literally, overwhelms me every time I post a chapter. My friends, you are all so wonderful. Special hugs to AnnaOxford for the veritable typhoon of thoughts this past weekend. It's all so very appreciated.

Just to make a quick statement, there is still lots building here and we are far from done... I am about mid-way through chapter 14 so still have a bit of a lead but am trying to keep it. Please enjoy... xoxo

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

Hermione walked over to his flat on Saturday morning, surprised to feel just a hint of nervous excitement, though she always felt that way to a certain extent at the prospect of international travel. Malfoy had assured her he knew the best way to get there and that they would be meeting Astoria, Theo, Scorpius and Astoria's sister, Daphne, in Scotland before the match.

Hermione hadn't seen Daphne since Hogwarts and wasn't sure what to expect, but couldn't imagine the girl would be that awful given their shared acquaintances. Besides, Daphne Greengrass had never been as antagonistic to Hermione as other girls like Pansy Parkinson had been. Hermione was secretly glad that Malfoy was no longer in contact with her.

"All set?" she asked, peering into his flat before stepping inside.

"Nearly," he said, shooting her a breathtaking grin. He patted his pockets, walking over to take something from a drawer in his kitchen. "Can't forget the tickets."

"You're excited, aren't you?" she asked, amused at his unusually animated state.

"Of course I am," he said, walking over to her. "You know how I feel about Quidditch. Besides, I get to take you to a game."

"I've seen your games, Malfoy – Draco," she reminded him, catching herself on his name, meeting his gaze. It made sense to call him Draco but it was breaking many years of habit.

"Not the same," he murmured, "I didn't get to see it with you." Then he scoffed. "I can't believe you're wearing that."

Hermione glanced down innocently at the thin Canadian flag jumper she was wearing, white with red sleeves and a large red maple leaf on it. He was of course dressed in the red, white and blue of France.

"I did warn you I would be cheering for Canada," she said simply.

"They aren't going to win," he said, teasingly. He wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning in to kiss her. She kissed him back for a moment before pulling away.

"They might," she said, light-heartedly.

"It's highly unlikely," he said, kissing her neck. "But I doubt you want me to get into the technical details."

"Not particularly," she quipped, "and we should go."

"Absolutely we should," he agreed. He looked at her for a long moment. "Thanks for coming with me."

"Thanks for inviting me," she said, softly. He smiled and Hermione met his eyes, briefly falling into his gaze as she smiled in return.

As he instructed her their Floo directions, Hermione vaguely considered that she ought to connect her own fireplace to the Floo network but she wasn't particularly fond of traveling by Floo on a good day, let alone internationally. She much preferred Apparating when possible.

She stepped out of the Floo in Edinburgh and he followed closely behind, almost instantly taking her arm and Apparating them both to the grounds of the Quidditch pitch where the World Cup finals would be held.

He led her through the grounds, past varied tents and accommodations. They would be going back to England following the end of the match so hadn't needed to bring anything of that sort. As she walked, Hermione found Draco to be quite close alongside her, occasionally feeling his hand touch hers until he grabbed it, entwining their fingers. Hermione bit back a smile at him making contact with her in public, remembering how uncomfortable he had seemed when they were in Diagon Alley together.

Furthermore, he seemed to know quite a few people as they walked, presumably to where they would be meeting the rest of their group. Due to Scorpius' age, they would be arriving in Scotland via Portkey.

Hermione vaguely recognized people here or there, from the hospital or people she had met at the Ministry through Harry. Many people pointed and whispered at Draco as they walked, presumably interested in seeing a true Quidditch celebrity in attendance. She wondered if there was a chance she might run into Harry and Ginny, knowing they had tickets as well. It was a massive event, however, so if she did it would be a great coincidence.

"Draco!" came a woman's voice and the blond glanced at Hermione, his grip on her hand tightening ever so slightly.

Hermione looked over as two women walked up and she thought they were vaguely familiar. Draco released her hand as each woman pulled him into a brief embrace, though he looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Lizzie Halcombe, Cassie Tiggs, this is Hermione Granger," he said, introducing the three women.

Instantly Hermione remembered that these were the other two Chasers who played for the Falmouth Falcons. The dark-haired one – Lizzie Halcombe, scanned Hermione quickly and then did a double take.

"No kidding, you are too," she said in a think Irish accent. "I was a fifth year when... you know, Battle of Hogwarts. It's good to meet ya."

"Right, you too," Hermione said, forcing a smile. Over time, she found fewer people recognized her or wanted to talk to her about what had happened all those years ago, but every so often her name or reputation still preceded her.

"Yes, lovely," the other woman – Tiggs – said flippantly, tossing her blonde hair. "Where are you sitting, Draco?"

Hermione noticed Draco had subtly moved closer to her. She felt a surge of something in her chest as he casually reached an arm around her back. Tiggs seemed to notice too, as her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed slightly.

"England's box," Draco responded. "You?"

"Lucky," Halcombe gushed, "somewhere over there." She gestured vaguely to one side of the stadium. "Not all of us have the Head Coach of England in our pocket."

"Yeah," Draco said simply, smirking. "He's still trying to see what obscene amount of Galleons will make me play for him next season."

"I still say you're crazy," Halcombe said, tossing up her arms. "I can't imagine turning down that sort of an offer." Tiggs, still silent, jerked her head in a delayed nod.

Draco gave a sort of charismatic shrug, lips tugged into a smile.

"I guess we'll have to see," he said. "We are just on our way to meet some friends. Enjoy the game." He nodded to Hermione and with a small wave, the two women walked the other direction.

"Would you ever consider playing for England again?" Hermione asked, making conversation as they walked.

"Not likely," he shrugged, "I would have to quit the British and Irish league. I don't have time for both."

"And you prefer it?" she asked. Hermione supposed the least she could do was show interest in his career, given that it was something he was so passionate about, and she knew she appreciated that he attempted to understand what she did as a Healer.

"I do," Draco nodded, slipping his hand into hers again. "The practice schedule is more manageable, the games are more consistent, and I rarely have to leave the UK. Falmouth is close enough to Apparate. When I was playing with England we were quite literally all around the world, which grew tiresome faster than you might expect."

"That makes sense," Hermione said, nodding. "I didn't consider it that way."

"This is where we are due to meet them," Draco said, stopping near one of the gates into the pitch. "Though their Portkey isn't arriving for another ten minutes or so."

He turned to face her, his free hand running up her side, leaning in closer.

"I'm very much looking forward to sharing this day with you," he said, softly. Hermione smiled, touched and opened her mouth to reply when there was a loud bang and a bright flash. Hermione jumped, instinctively drawing her wand, a habit she hadn't ever shaken following her time on the run and the many other things she had faced with Harry and Ron.

She looked around, making eye contact with Draco when she realized it had been a camera flashing. She bit her lip in embarrassment, stowing her wand once more. But he didn't look like he found her reaction funny at all, in fact he looked disgruntled to have been photographed without warning in the midst of an intimate conversation. Hermione knew he liked to keep things close to the belt and she suspected that even holding her hand in public was more than he was accustomed to.

He stepped away from her for a moment, talking in hushed tones with the photographer and a reporter who stood alongside, looking gleeful.

"I mean, I knew they'd want to talk to me, but have some decency," he muttered, walking back over to her. "I'm going to talk to that reporter for a few minutes, alright? Quidditch stuff."

"Of course," Hermione said, smiling. "I'll keep an eye for Astoria and Theo."

He shot her a quick, heart-melting grin and walked back to where the reporter and photographer stood, anxiously awaiting their story. As Hermione watched Draco talk to the man, gesturing in a thoughtful manner, she idly smiled to herself. He really did love Quidditch – and Hermione found herself interested enough in him that she was willing to be interested in the sport.

Hermione was quite aware that attending the Quidditch World Cup with Draco could very likely expose them – whatever they were presently. She hadn't had a chance to speak with Harry but didn't imagine telling Ron face to face anyway. Besides that, Ginny and Mandy both already knew, and her parents wouldn't receive the _Daily Prophet_ anyway, so she had time to tell them. Anyone else, as far as she was concerned, could simply deal with it.

Some minutes later, Astoria, Theo and Scorpius materialized, along with a woman Hermione recognized from Hogwarts. If Hermione hadn't known Astoria and Daphne to be sisters, she wouldn't have guessed. Where Astoria was tall, willowy and dark-haired, Daphne was shorter and blonde, but equally beautiful and with the same stunning green eyes.

"Hermione," Astoria greeted, embracing the older girl briefly, kissing her on the cheeks as she had when they went to dinner.

"Astoria, it's nice to see you again," Hermione said, returning the gesture. "Hello, Theo."

"Hello as well," the man replied, seemingly more at ease than the last time they had been re-introduced to one another.

"And hello Scorpius!" she exclaimed, ducking down to meet the boy's level, who grinned. "Are you excited to watch the Quidditch game?"

"Hello, Miss Hermione," he greeted, proper and polite. "Yes, I'm very excited! France is definitely going to win!"

"I don't know, Scorpius, I think Canada might win," Hermione responded, gesturing down to her jumper with a smile.

As Hermione stood back up she registered that she wasn't the only one cheering for Canada to win the match, as Daphne was also sporting Canada's colours, while Astoria, Theo and Scorpius were decorated for France.

"Hello Daphne, good to see you," Hermione said, nervously extending the olive branch.

"You as well," the blonde woman replied, relaxing as she leaned in to also kiss Hermione on the cheeks.

"Hermione, where is Draco?" Astoria asked, looking around.

She looked around, noticing he was still talking animatedly with the reporter, a small group of enthusiasts surrounding at a short distance, listening in to the interview. Hermione gestured in his direction and Astoria nodded, knowingly. Draco noticed them looking, for he politely excused himself from the conversation moments later and walked over while the crowd and reporters dispersed.

When Draco saw Scorpius he stopped walking, dropping his jaw exaggeratedly, eyes wide.

"Who is _that_?" he exclaimed, feigning surprise as he ducked down. Scorpius giggled, running over to throw himself into his father's arms. Hermione found it awfully endearing.

"It's me, Scorpius," the boy said, grinning widely. Draco hoisted the boy up to sit on his shoulders. Scorpius laughed delightedly from his perch above the crowds.

Draco briefly greeted everyone else, chatting momentarily with Theo and Daphne, holding securely to Scorpius' legs.

"He's a wonderful father," Astoria said, falling into step with Hermione, watching her closely.

"I know," Hermione said, swallowing heavily. Some part of her, seeing him interact with his son, wanted to jump him then and there. She cleared her head of the thoughts, setting them aside for later on. "He says the same of you as a mother. I think it's great that you are all able to get along for Scorpius' sake."

"Of course," Astoria said, looking confused. "Why wouldn't we?"

"Divorce is very common in the Muggle world," Hermione explained, "often times the children end up in the middle of it, with both parents hating one another."

"That sounds horrible," Astoria said. "Draco and I both love Scorpius very much. As does Theo, whose own father was awfully abusive, and he sees it as a chance to break his own chains. Unfortunately, there is a slim chance I will be able to give Theo a child of his own, for reasons I'm aware Draco has shared with you." Astoria glanced at Hermione, who felt a sharp pang in her heart at the admittance.

"Yes, he has," Hermione said, biting her lip. She didn't know what to say to such a thing.

Then Draco walked over, distributing tickets, Scorpius still clinging to his neck. Draco gave her a wink as Astoria floated back over to Theo, tucking herself into his arms.

As they entered the stadium, Hermione was caught off guard by how deluxe it was. She didn't recall the stadium being quite this large when she had attended the World Cup finals between Ireland and Bulgaria so many years ago. Even Draco's pitch in Falmouth wasn't this large.

The rows of seating went higher and higher, though their seats, in England's box, were lower and in perfect eyesight of the majority of the action. The seats themselves were enchanted far more comfortable, like armchairs, and Hermione settled into one between Draco and Astoria, Scorpius jumping excitedly into a seat beside Draco.

Hermione smiled, watching on as Scorpius asked a multitude of questions, about the match, about the stadium and about the teams. Draco answered each patiently as Scorpius grew more animated.

As the players flew out, white and red and blue blurs on top model broomsticks, Draco grabbed Hermione's hand, squeezing it before entwining his fingers with hers. Hermione smiled, seeing the excitement sparkling in his grey eyes.

The box seating area filled up shortly before the match started with many important dignitaries and Ministry officials. Draco spoke briefly to the coach of England, who seemed part hopeful and part resigned that Draco wouldn't likely return to the international team. Hermione waved at Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic and former Order comrade, who looked surprised to see her before waving back with a large grin.

"Just so you're aware," Draco said, leaning in to murmur in her ear, "I granted that interview on the terms they not release the photo of us without permission. I didn't know if you wanted your friends to learn about us in that way."

Hermione searched his guarded expression for a long moment.

"Draco, I told you I'm not ashamed of us or of being seen with you," she reminded him quietly. "Some people will take issue with it, and granted, I did want to tell Harry in person, but if not this reporter it'll be another. I knew very well what today would likely mean. What do you think about it?"

He stared at her for another long beat, his grey eyes boring into hers.

"I'm fine with it," he finally said. "I just know that any article will likely end up horribly skewing us and our past."

"Then we will get past it and people will move on to the next big scandal," Hermione said, firmly.

His brow furrowed in uncertainty for a moment before he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him and kissing her on the forehead.

"Okay," he murmured, watching the players fly around, warming up.

When the commencement of the match was announced and the balls released, Draco leaned forward in his seat, closely observing every move that happened. While Hermione could hardly follow what was going on, he seemed perfectly at ease keeping up with the fast pace of the players. In fact, he even managed to explain some of the plays to Scorpius as they were happening.

Hermione had to remind herself that this was the level he played at – and even used to play internationally as well. He knew Quidditch inside out.

On Hermione's other side, Astoria, Daphne and Theo were casually discussing the match, as well as other topics – an article that had been in the _Daily Prophet_ , the cost of lacewing flies, some Greengrass cousin that would be attending Hogwarts in the coming year.

Hermione quickly realized Draco and Scorpius were by far the biggest Quidditch fans in the group. It warmed her heart to see how much Scorpius looked up to his father – and aspired to be like him – despite the fact that Draco always wished he could spend more time with Scorpius.

While Scorpius usually came over when Draco had a day or two off, Quidditch practices or matches often went late enough that it didn't make sense for Scorpius to come over afterwards. Beyond that, she knew that he had meant what he said about being glad that Astoria was able to spend the bulk of her time raising Scorpius. Again Hermione felt an uncomfortable twist in her heart. It would be a horrible day indeed when that would no longer be the case.

The Quidditch match raged on, furiously paced, the chasers shooting down the pitch like lightning, the beaters expertly knocking Bludgers towards opposing chasers, each team's keeper making some spectacular saves. Aside from all that, the seekers, drifting away from the action, scouting attentively for any hint of the elusive Golden Snitch.

Hermione knew that, though Draco was a chaser, his days as a seeker at Hogwarts meant that he still kept a half eye out for the Snitch and she could see him scanning the skies now and again.

After two hours of play the score was tied at 180, no closer to ending than it had been at the start. Much like when she had attended a Falcons game, Hermione found she was rather enjoying herself.

"Are you hungry?" Draco asked, looking to her.

"Sort of, are you?" she asked.

"I'm hungry!" Scorpius announced, bouncing in his seat. He grinned widely.

"Well then," Draco said, raising an eyebrow with a smirk at his son, "you ought to eat." He glanced at Hermione. "Come with me?"

"Sure," she said, standing alongside him. Scorpius jumped into her seat beside his mum.

As they left the private boxed seating area there were hundreds of people milling about nearby and Hermione was once again struck by the magnitude of the event. Draco pulled her closer as he led them through the crowds.

"Are you enjoying the match?" he asked casually as they walked.

"Yes I am," she admitted. "Though I think part of it is being here with you."

"It's pretty amazing," he said, low in her ear and a shiver crept down her spine. He gave her hip a quick squeeze.

Hermione looked over at him and he was gazing back at her with an indecent look in his eyes – one that she was very familiar with. One that usually spelled trouble. She bit her lip then smiled at him.

With all the bustle going on, no one was paying them any notice. Hermione leaned up and pressed a lingering kiss to his jaw. The hand that was on her hip tightened and then slid down to squeeze her bum. His eyes closed briefly.

"Fuck it," he said softly, "we're taking a detour."

"Really?" she asked, eyes wide.

He looked around, locating a corridor with an apparently infrequently used mens loo in it.

"Yes, really," he responded. His voice was husky and his grey eyes shone with lust.

He tugged her into the loo and into a stall. Almost instantly he began making short work of her jeans. Hermione drew her wand before he tossed them over the back of the toilet, about to cast a silencing spell when he stopped her hand.

"It's more fun this way," he muttered, smirking. He took the wand from her hand and tucked it safely back in her jeans pocket.

"Okay," Hermione said, rolling her eyes though a thrill crept through her. She had never done anything this public before – Ron never would have had the nerve.

She began undoing his jeans, pushing them down, playing with his hardening erection through his boxer-briefs, even as he quickly and habitually cast a contraceptive spell on her. As she pushed them from his hips, grasping him fully, he placed a hand on either side of her face, his head leaned forward, breathing heavy.

He cursed under his breath, reaching for her knickers, shoving them aside as he fingered her clit, rubbing expert circles on the sensitive flesh. He slid a finger, and then two, inside of her wet passage. She groaned at the sensation.

"Shh," he hushed, grabbing his wand and unapologetically vanishing her knickers. As Hermione shot him a chilly look, opening her mouth to say something, he kissed her deeply, crushing her against the wall of the stall as their hands continued to work one another.

In one swift transition, he gently removed her hand from his length and his fingers from within her, driving himself hard inside.

He buried his face in her shoulder, groaning at the rapid entry as her passage accommodated him. He wrapped one of her thighs and then the other around his waist. After a moment he began to move, deep, slow thrusts designed to drive Hermione wild. She kissed him again, feeling everything all the more due to the risk of being caught.

He picked up speed, the metal wall her back was pressed against rattling softly from the rhythmic impact. Hermione found herself getting lost in the ecstasy he was always able to evoke in her. He was murmuring, under his breath, and Hermione could neither understand nor had the wherewithal to.

She found herself mentally spiraling upwards, her body approaching the desired peak when there was a loud noise and suddenly – two people conversing.

Draco paused but did not look alarmed. If anything he smirked. He bit her earlobe, his face lingering alongside hers.

"Don't get us caught," he breathed in her ear. It sent another shiver through her spine.

Then he began his torture of her body in earnest. Pushing into her with light, shallow, teasing thrusts; Hermione wasn't sure she would be able to take what he was doing to her now. He drew almost the entire way out, then back in with just enough force to keep the wall from rattling. Out – and back in. Her head fell back, against the wall and the two people stopped talking briefly, before continuing.

Draco smirked then dragged his teeth along the skin of neck, and Hermione wanted to curse him for clearly doing his best to have her expose them. Catching a groan from escaping her throat, she buried her face in his chest as her body once more began to coil towards her impending orgasm.

When it hit, Hermione bit her lip so hard she thought she tasted blood to keep from screaming as waves of pleasure wracked her body, shuddering from the overwhelming sensation.

With several more thrusts, Draco came as well, inside her, his breathing heavy as he dropped his face on her shoulder.

The door swung open once more and the talking pair left the loo. He lifted his face, grinning at her as she shook her head, but was smiling as well.

"See, more fun," he muttered, letting her legs down and drawing himself out from within her.

"You vanished my knickers," she said, halfway cross.

"They were in the way," he said, planting a kiss on her lips and Hermione laughed despite herself. He drew his wand and leaned down, vanishing the fluids from inside her. "There, now you'll be fine without them."

"So thoughtful," Hermione commended, mockingly. "But you're right, that _was_ fun."

They both quickly dressed and Hermione attempted to straighten her hair. He took her hand, surreptitiously leading her from the loo.

" _Now_ I'm hungry," he said, grinning. Hermione simply laughed.

* * *

"Long line for food?" Astoria asked casually as they arrived back some minutes later, Draco hovering a box of food and drinks before him.

" _So_ long," Draco said before Hermione could say anything. With a quick glance at the woman, Hermione could tell she knew. There was a bit too much amusement in the twitch of her lips.

Draco distributed the food and drinks, taking a seat next to Scorpius and Hermione sat next to him.

The score was now 250 to 230 for Canada. Hermione smiled a little at Draco and he just scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"The French Seeker has a better record," he stated, picking at a cake.

"Doesn't mean he'll win today," Hermione said flippantly. Though she didn't particularly care which team won, it was still amusing.

"Of course not," Draco said dismissively. "Both teams are playing well. Anyone can still win this match."

He smiled at her, a smile it seemed he kept only for her. He ran a hand teasingly up her thigh before taking her hand, leaning back in his seat and watching the match.

Hermione smiled in return, reflecting that only days prior she hadn't been sure if he wanted anything to do with her any more. She felt a surge of warmth flow through her as she squeezed their intertwined fingers together.

* * *

After nearly six hours, the French Seeker caught the Snitch from near the Canadian goalposts. It had been neck and neck, the two Seekers racing at breakneck speed from extreme heights. It was quite the spectacle. The final score was 620 to 460 for France.

The audience came to their feet as one, applauding and cheering the close of a great match.

Hermione followed Draco from the stadium, their group walking through the campsites, past many inebriated revelers in French and Canadian colours alike. Theo re-activated their Portkey and departed with Astoria, Scorpius and Daphne.

Draco took Hermione's arm, Apparating them to their Floo connection in Edinburgh and when they arrived home, they went to Hermione's flat. She had recently connected a television and Draco had become quite fascinated with it after the initial shock of understanding how it worked.

The two snacked on cheeses and fruits, drinking wine, commenting on the trashy late night shows they watched until Draco announced he was tired.

Hermione squealed, caught off guard as Draco threw her over his shoulder, carrying her into the bedroom. He stripped her naked, tossing her into the bed and undressed himself, crawling in, his chest pressing to her back as he pulled her closer and they both fell asleep within minutes.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** Thanks, as always for all the kind words, the follows and the favourites. I appreciate it all.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

Hermione awoke to a distant, desperate pounding. Rubbing her eyes blearily, she got up and quickly dressed in her jeans and jumper from the night before, tucking her wand in a pocket. By the sky outside she could tell it was still the middle of the night. They had probably slept a couple of hours at best. Draco stirred beside her, grumbling inarticulately.

Something felt wrong. Hermione opened the front door of her flat, seeing Theo Nott banging on Draco's door.

"Hermione," he gasped, turning to her, "thank Merlin."

"Theo?" Draco asked, coming up behind her. "What is it?"

"Astoria," Nott said, "she collapsed."

Hermione glanced between the two men, noting the way Draco paled immediately. Obviously this was dire news indeed.

"Theo, where is she?" Hermione asked instantly, drawing her wand. Her heart was racing for the younger girl who had grown on her so fast.

"Took her to Mungo's," the dark-haired man said, his eyes frantic. "Didn't know where else. Draco, it was worse than I've ever seen."

"Where's Scorp?" Draco asked, meeting Nott's tone.

"Daph was still there," Nott said. "I didn't –"

"I'm on my way," Hermione said, squeezing Nott's hand for reassurance. She glanced at Draco, giving him a quick kiss. "I'll check in once I know the situation."

She left before either man could respond, dashing to the Apparition point and arriving at St. Mungo's within moments. She stopped a passing junior healer to consult his charts, determining the room where Astoria had been taken. It was an emergency room.

Hermione rushed in, seeing two panicked looking junior healers.

"She just came in," one of them, a young man man named Patrick, said, "we've got her sedated but it isn't taking well."

The two healers were staring at her funny and Hermione realized she was wearing her Canadian flag jumper from the night before. The enjoyment of the World Cup now seemed so far away.

She rushed to Astoria's side. The woman was pale but unconscious, her face flickering slightly as if in pain. She was connected to a magical diagnostic, showing her blood pressure, heart rate, and other vitals.

Hermione quickly made an incision in the girl's arm with her wand, taking three small vials of blood for testing purposes. She checked her vitals and ran a number of quick tests, the results coming back wildly inconclusive for anything Hermione had ever seen.

Of course, what Astoria had wasn't like anything else. She recalled what Draco had once said to her about Astoria's blood line carrying a long dormant curse. She felt an extremely unsettled rush of adrenaline flow through her as she realized she had no idea how to deal with blood curses.

Suddenly Astoria began to stir. The she started to shake and her eyes flew open, staring blankly.

Hermione caught her hand and the young woman's eyes focused, tears flowing freely as she gasped in pain.

"Hermione," she choked out, "you're here."

"I've got you," Hermione said, squeezing her hand. She felt a sense of protectiveness for the girl.

"Hermione, I'm so scared," she whispered, "I can't, I'm – Scorpius – I'm not –"

"Shhhh," Hermione shushed her, waving her wand over the girl's shivering form once more.

She quickly shouted some orders to the junior healers who were watching the scene in stunned horror. They assembled the required potions and one by one, Hermione administered them.

"Is it McTavish on tonight?" she asked the one, Patrick.

"Yes," the young man said, nodding as he handed Hermione still more potions.

"Find him," she hissed, trying to keep from being overheard by Astoria, "I can't do this on my own."

Patrick rushed off, leaving Hermione alone with the terrified girl and the slightly more in control junior healer. She thought his name was Michael.

The extreme cocktail of potions didn't seem to be helping in the slightest; if anything, Astoria was worse, whimpering in pain now. The magical diagnostic showed Hermione the girl's heartbeat was far above normal, adrenaline spiking through her system.

Hermione took Astoria's hand again, squeezing hard.

"You're okay," she was murmuring, "I've got you..."

Frantically running through her memory of anything she could think of to ease the girl's suffering, Hermione decided on a spell that could slow her heart rate, enough to attempt to stabilize her condition.

"Where is McTavish!" she shouted and the other healer ran to the door, looking down the hall even as he updated his charts to call McTavish to an emergency.

She attempted the spell, feeling it briefly take hold and then fail. Astoria was sobbing in pain now. Hermione had to fight the tears threatening to overtake her as well. She was the girl's only hope until her superior could arrive.

She tried the spell again, relieved that it worked slightly – her heart rate came down to a more manageable level, though still higher than it should have been.

"Hermione," Astoria gasped, "tell Theo –"

"You'll tell Theo yourself," Hermione said sharply.

Just then Healer McTavish rushed in with the two junior healers. He took one look at the patient and visibly paled. Hermione briefed him on the potions Astoria had been given, the tests she had run and the spells she was attempting.

McTavish nodded, drawing his wand and casting the spell as well. Finally they were able to steady Astoria's heart rate, enough for the potions to begin taking hold. Astoria's sobs grew to sniffles as the potions overpowered her system, forcing her body to relax. Finally she slipped into unconsciousness and Hermione exhaled a heavy breath she had been holding.

With Astoria's body out of the panic that had overtaken it, Hermione and McTavish were able to re-assess her condition.

"She appears to be stable," McTavish said several minutes later, "but what in Merlin's name was that?"

"Blood curse," Hermione said. "I'm not entirely sure how it affects her. Extremely rare. She's a friend."

"Wow," McTavish said, running a hand through his hair. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Good thing you got here when you did. What the hell is that jumper?"

"Go Team Canada," she murmured weakly, and McTavish caught on.

"Ah," the man said. "Without knowing how to counteract the curse, I don't know what we can do."

"Right," Hermione said, "I'm given to understand it flares up. I'm hopeful we have time."

"Healer Granger," one of the junior healers – Michael – said, walking back into the room. "There are two men in the waiting room demanding to see her."

Hermione sighed. Astoria was not ready for visitors yet.

"Go, I'll keep an eye on her," McTavish said. "You aren't even on shift."

Hermione hesitated, glancing nervously back to Astoria. She was still pale but resting peacefully.

"Let me know instantly if anything changes, I'll keep my charts handy," she said, biting her lip and the man nodded. She left the room, walking toward the waiting area, meeting the anxious faces of Draco and Theo. She held up a hand as they both started asking questions at once, feeling mentally exhausted and magically drained from the exertions of the spell.

"She's stable," Hermione whispered. She must have looked as awful as she felt because Draco placed a supportive hand to her shoulder, leaning down to meet her eyes.

"What happened?" he asked. Theo looked beyond words.

"She had an attack, I couldn't get her heart steady," Hermione ran a hand through her hair, her words jumbling, "finally got it down and potions reached her system. She's in a forced sleep."

Draco exhaled heavily. Hermione glanced at Theo, who looked on the verge of tears.

"Theo – she's okay," she said, softly. He nodded, his expression relaxing somewhat. "But without knowing the exact condition, long term, I..."

She trailed off, feeling as if they both understood what she was saying. The procedure was only a bandage for a larger issue.

"Can I see her?" Theo asked.

"Not yet," Hermione said, "but you can stay and they will keep you posted, if you like."

"Where are you going?" Draco asked, turning to her.

"To my office," she said, waving the vials of blood she had withdrawn before Astoria had woken up. "I have to run some tests to see if I can find anything here."

"Do you want me to come with you?" he asked. Hermione shook her head.

"Stay with Theo," she said, "he needs you more right now."

The blond nodded, though he looked as if he would rather go with her. He sat down, pulling Theo into the seat beside him and attempting to distract the other man's attention.

Hermione went up to the seventh floor and to her office. She drew a heavy tome on blood testing from a bookshelf, as it wasn't a procedure she was altogether familiar with yet. Following the text, she was able to isolate the parts of Astoria's blood which would provide her with the greatest results.

She watched with mounting horror as one by one, the results came back inconclusive, much as the wand tests Hermione conducted earlier had.

She stored the two remaining vials of drawn blood in a sterile cupboard, protecting it under magical wards in case she thought of something else when her brain wasn't so frazzled.

Draco found her an hour later, elbows on her desk and hands buried in her hair in frustration. The lack of sleep was catching up with her.

"Don't you think your hair is enough of a mess?" he teased. Hermione granted him a weak smile. "Astoria's still out of it but they let Theo in to sit with her."

"Good," Hermione said softly, closing her eyes briefly. "Look at this."

She gestured to the results of the blood tests she had run, every single one of them coming back abnormal. As if he would understand what she was showing him.

"Not sure what I'm looking at," he said after a pause.

"Draco," she murmured, her voice cracking on his name, "they're all inconclusive. I can't find a single thing that might help."

"Why don't you come back to it with fresh eyes later?" he suggested, taking her hand. "Every time it's flared up before, it's gone back to normal for a while."

"Theo said it was worse than usual," she said.

"It looks like it'll go the same way," he assured her. "Come, you need more sleep."

Hermione picked up her charts and allowed him to pull her from her office, watching as he warded it as she had done before. In the hallway, he turned to her, grasping her shoulders.

"Thank you for what you did," he said, meeting her eyes. "You didn't even hesitate. According to the healers downstairs you took control where there was none. I can't tell you how much that means to me. And I know Theo feels the same way."

Hermione laid a hand on his cheek, touched by his words. His brow was furrowed, his grey eyes full of sorrow.

"I need to see her before we go," she said and he nodded.

Dawn was breaking through the window as they walked back into Astoria's room and Hermione yawned widely despite herself.

McTavish was still observing, running the diagnostic tests again.

"She's still stable, we should be able to wake her soon," he informed Hermione. "Good work today, Granger, you acted very quickly."

Theo glanced up, looking as exhausted as Hermione felt but grateful. He walked over.

"Thank you," Theo said, meeting Hermione's eyes. "It seems as if she's out of the woods for now. Apparently you saved her life. I will never be able to thank you enough."

"The blood tests didn't tell me anything," Hermione admitted, feeling her eyes well up with tears at his words. It had been a very emotionally charged night. "I'll see if I can try anything else later. Let us know when she wakes up?"

"Absolutely," Theo agreed, nodding. Draco stepped away from Hermione's side to speak briefly to the other man.

"I'm taking my charts with me," Hermione informed McTavish, who nodded. "Just in case you need me."

The blond was back by Hermione's side, pressing a kiss to her temple. He took her hand, entwining their fingers, walking her to the Apparition point. For once Hermione didn't care what the other Healers said, all of her thoughts fixed on the wellbeing of Astoria, and of the man so dedicated at her side, and on the young blond boy who wasn't ready to lose his mother yet.

Hermione didn't know what she could do – but she had to keep trying.

She felt the pull of side-along apparition and then Draco was gently removing her Canada jumper and her jeans, tucking her back into bed and he was there alongside her and Hermione cuddled into him, so mentally drained, feeling sleep take her in an instant.

* * *

If the Healers of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries thought they liked to gossip about who had visited Hermione before, she thought, it would be nothing compared to the sight of Harry Potter – Head Auror of the DMLE and _Chosen One_ – storming into her office, a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ clutched tightly in his hand.

" _What is this_?" he exclaimed, running a hand through his messy black hair.

Hermione glanced down, swallowing at the photo on the page the post was opened to. It was the photo of her and Draco from before the Quidditch World Cup.

"I meant to tell you, Harry," she said, standing from her desk and walking over to him, "I just didn't have a chance before the World Cup and –"

"You're lucky Gin stopped me from sending you a bloody Howler!" Harry continued, disregarding what she had just said. "And don't even get me started on _you_ going to a Quidditch match."

Harry threw the _Prophet_ down on her desk, pacing across the room. Hermione bit her lip, knowing Harry would have more to say before he would be willing to hear her out. Harry sighed heavily.

"Is this some convoluted way of getting back at Ron?" he asked, slightly calmer.

"Of course not, Harry," she said, furrowing her brow. "It has nothing to do with Ron."

"Then why do I have to learn from the _Daily Prophet_ that my best friend is dating someone new?" he asked. Hermione was taken aback.

"Because it only just became something worth mentioning," she explained, "and I didn't see you before the weekend."

"According to Ginny it's been going for a while," Harry said waspishly. The anger had washed from him, though, like a deflated balloon.

"Unofficially," she admitted, feeling awkward. She had never even felt particularly comfortable talking to Harry about her relationship with Ron, even after so many years together.

"I was half hoping for you to deny this," Harry said. He glanced at the photo and Hermione wondered what the article said. "Malfoy, Hermione? Really?"

"Really, Harry," she repeated. "You won't believe how he's like now. He isn't that selfish, rude boy we knew in school."

"Please don't tell me it's because he's gone and become a Quidditch star," Harry said, cracking the smallest of smiles.

"Of course not," Hermione said, waving a hand. "You know me better than that. I wasn't even aware at first."

Harry's eyes widened in realization.

"That time you were over and I thought you said you had gone flying," he said, "it was with him!"

"Yes," she admitted, "he'd been badly injured in a match and was nervous to fly again."

"I remember that," Harry said, "against the Cannons, wasn't it? Ron and I went to that game." He sighed, running a hand through his hair again. "I'm not sure I understand what you could possibly see in Malfoy, Hermione, but I guess you'll have to bring him by for supper and I can see for myself."

"Are you sure, Harry?" she asked, skeptical.

"I suppose so," he said, looking thoroughly unconvinced.

"Do you think you could not share it with Ron for the time being?" Hermione asked. "I quite like having my hearing."

"He'll see the article," Harry said, gesturing to the newspaper. "It's only a matter of time before I hear from him about it, you know that."

"You're right," she sighed, "I just don't want to deal with him yet."

"I'll do what I can," Harry said with a wry smile. "Come over on Sunday then, yeah?"

"I'll owl you," she responded. "Thanks for understanding, Harry."

She walked over and pulled him in for a hug, feeling a weight off her shoulders.

" _Barely_ understanding," he grunted but he returned the hug. "If he treats you badly just once he'll regret it."

"Of course," she said, rolling her eyes. Harry shook his head, gave her one last disgruntled look and left the office.

Despite herself, Hermione drew the _Daily Prophet_ towards her, feeling intensely curious about what the article said. A far as Hermione knew, the article would be based on the interview Draco had given the reporter at the World Cup.

She quickly learned as she skimmed it that it _was_ largely a Quidditch article and was soon lost in the technical discussion and terminology. Given that it was a sports article and not the gossip page, to the reporter's credit, the paragraph at the end which referenced the photo was relatively tasteful. Relatively – it was still the _Prophet_ after all.

 _It appears that Draco Malfoy has recently taken up with none other than war heroine and Order of Merlin, First Class recipient Hermione Granger. This may come across as unexpected and even scandalous to many, given Malfoy's history as a branded Death Eater, though he was acquitted and his actions proven to be under duress following the final Battle of Hogwarts._

 _To see the two together, however, suggests that things have evidently changed. Those of us who have followed Malfoy's career from young hopeful to Quidditch phenomenon have seen the impact he has since made on the wizarding world, including giving back to countless charities and causes. In reference to the relationship, Malfoy said, "it's still new, but I look forward to seeing where it goes." Given their respective positions of influence, we can only hope that neither of them are pursuing this for the wrong reasons._

Hermione rolled her eyes. Scandalous indeed. But if that was the worst they could throw at her, she would take it. She briefly wondered if Draco had seen the article.

She smiled to herself before getting back to her work. Harry's visit was a welcome interruption, if she was honest. She was struggling to make any headway on her research and her focus was almost non-existent – all she could think of was Astoria and how none of the tests had returned anything worthwhile.

Not that she should have expected anything else, Hermione thought as she sucked on the tip of a sugar quill. It was a curse, after all. Not simply a medical condition that could be healed or cured with potions.

The thought of sitting idly by as Astoria's condition deteriorated left a pit in Hermione's stomach. She had been unable to think of much else.

Between her duties as a healer and her new independent research capacity, Hermione was already working herself harder than she could ever recall doing. She was working late, usually coming to the hospital early, having trouble sleeping and struggling with a poor appetite.

She suspected – or rather hoped – that once she started making breakthroughs in her research that she might be able to deal with it better.

The thought of seeing Draco later was what made it feel better, if she was honest. He had become such a constant, stable force in her life that the past week had been very difficult when they hadn't been speaking with one another. She thought that was another reason her sleep had been off.

Idly she decided to brew a batch of Dreamless Sleep. It wasn't a habit she liked to indulge too frequently as it was known to become addictive or cause the user to become dependent, but now and again Hermione felt it a welcome relief.

She would also be more likely to make progress with her mind healing research if she was well rested, she reasoned.

As she brewed the potion, her mind just kept returning to those two remaining vials of Astoria's blood and what, if anything, she might possibly be able to do to help.

* * *

"So, Healer Granger."

Draco spun to the sound of his coach's voice. Ken Carrington was standing beside him, a sparkle in his eyes that always made Draco uncomfortable. It was the sort of sparkle that suggested the man was inserting himself where he didn't belong.

"What are you talking about?" Draco asked. Carrington was so long married and so far removed from anything of this context that the _last_ thing Draco wanted to do was talk to the man about Hermione. Beyond that, the man had an irritating habit of thinking Draco wanted his advice when it came to women and Draco's love life.

"Haven't read the _Prophet_ today?" the man smiled.

"No... I haven't," Draco said but he understood. The reporter from the Quidditch Cup had owled him the day before while Hermione was asleep. Given the conversation he had had with Hermione about the photo that had been taken, he had allowed the reporter to publish it.

"Great article," Carrington said, knowingly.

Draco, despite himself, felt a flush creep to his cheeks. He would rather Carrington fly him past the point of exhaustion, yell at him for a bad play, hell, he would rather take the man smacking Bludgers at him for an hour. The coach had been a formidable beater himself, years ago.

This awkward, father-like approach made Draco supremely uncomfortable. He sensed it was going to come with advice of some sort.

"She seems bright," Carrington continued, as if Draco had encouraged him.

"She's brilliant," he retorted, realizing too late the man was baiting him into talking about it. Carrington must have been a Slytherin.

"So what's she doing with you?" the man said, chuckling appreciatively at his own joke. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Sir, may I?'" he asked, attempting to keep his tone in check, gesturing to his broom. The rest of the team was still practicing – Draco had merely stopped to make an adjustment with his equipment.

It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to Coach Carrington; it was that he didn't want to talk to him _about this_. In fact, Draco usually enjoyed talking to Carrington, mostly about Quidditch. When the man wasn't hollering at him for a dropped Quaffle or a poor shot, that is.

The man folded his arms, looking amused, but he gestured to the sky and Draco climbed on to his broom and took off, needing no more incentive.

That certainly explained the looks he had been receiving from Cassie Tiggs all day – a sort of irritated disdain. His suspicions that she had never let go of the one night between them – and how he had dealt with it after – seemed to be proving at least somewhat correct.

Doing his best to put it to the back of his mind, Draco flew back into his spot in formation with Tiggs and Halcombe. Catching the Quaffle as it came at him from Halcombe, Draco swerved and ducked to miss a Bludger, tossing the ball to Tiggs, flying ahead to receive it once more and faking towards the centre hoop, guarded by the Keeper, only to shift over and put it in the left hoop.

"Good one, Draco," Lizzie called as she caught the Quaffle thrown back by the Keeper. Cass said nothing, shooting off in the opposite direction. Lizzie wove around him, just narrowly missing being hit by the Bludger still tailing them. She waved a hand. "Don't mind her!"

"I usually don't," Draco said, grinning as he flew alongside Lizzie. She was one of the few people he knew that he considered a friend who hadn't been a classmate of his at Hogwarts. She had never judged his name or his past.

"She's always hoped it would be you and her, I imagine," Lizzie said, smiling apologetically. "I think, good for you."

"Thanks," he said but sighed. "I guess I'll have to read the article. Seems I'm the only one who hasn't."

"It isn't bad, " Lizzie said. "I've got the _Prophet_ in my bag, I'll give it to you after."

"Can't wait," he quipped, rolling his eyes. "And _this_ is why I usually keep things private."

"You couldn't have kept this quiet if you'd tried," Lizzie said, grinning, "not with you who you are and her who she is."

"You're probably right," Draco said. He had pretty well already resigned himself to that fact.

"Are you bringing Hermione to the charity event next weekend?" the girl asked, grinning.

Draco sighed, having nearly forgotten about that blasted event. The wealthy collaborative of wizards who owned the Falmouth Falcons were hosting a charity ball and the team was expected to be there. It was a good cause, to be sure, but Draco had a bitter taste from attending too many extravagant balls growing up. Too much pretense and posturing – and general peacocking – while he would sooner donate a large amount of Galleons and take a miss on the whole thing.

"I hope to," he said, pulling away from Lizzie, "haven't had a chance to ask her yet."

He shot away and the girl, taking the hint, tossed the Quaffle to him as she sped off beside him and he picked up speed, dropping the Quaffle to Tiggs as he passed and they made their way back around to the goalposts once again.

* * *

By Wednesday of that week Hermione was starting to grow nervous. She was still yet to make much progress on her research and she was due to provide a progress report to McTavish on Friday.

Additionally, the assorted hate mail and howlers she had been receiving with regards to the _Daily Prophet_ article from Monday had been extremely distracting. Surprisingly, it appeared to be split almost evenly between people who were upset with her for taking Draco Malfoy off the market, and people who were upset that a war hero had lowered herself to the level of an ex-Death Eater.

Regardless of all that, the problem with the topic she had undertaken was that extensive research had already been done and so far all she had been able to come up with was information that proved past research.

But Hermione's intention was to dig deeper – scientifically, medically – and prove that the effects of the Cruciatus curse affected the victim on a deeper level than had ever been studied. Unfortunately, she had yet to find anything to prove that.

Which had brought her to her current predicament, working late in her office, after her shift was over, as had become habit. She was determined to provide McTavish with something promising enough that he would allow her to continue pursuing the results that she knew must be out there. She just couldn't imagine there to be _no_ way.

Following the second wizarding war, there were even more patients in the closed wards suffering the long-term effects of the Cruciatus curse, including some former Hogwarts students who had been tortured during the Carrows' brief time as professors.

Hermione felt a cold and bitter fury well up inside her as it always did when she thought of it. No, there was no way she wouldn't figure this out.

She jumped, alarmed, at a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," she called.

Draco walked in, settling himself in the chair on the opposite side of Hermione's desk.

"Thought you might still be here," he commented. "Have you eaten?"

"Not for a while," she admitted, biting her lip. She couldn't recall having eaten since breakfast at home.

"I thought that might be the case," he said, looking mildly disapproving. "I don't need you wasting away."

He handed her a bag she hadn't noticed him carrying when he walked in. It was a take-away sandwich and a bowl of soup from the hospital cafeteria.

"Thank you, that's very considerate," she said, pulling the soup and a spoon from the bag. "I've just been so focused on this research. I need to make sure I have enough to show McTavish by Friday."

"And does McTavish not realize that research takes time?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's... complicated." She hesitated. She hadn't shared much of her thesis with Draco yet. "I said I would provide him with progress updates given the nature of my research."

"What is your research on?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Hermione removed the lid from the soup, thick steam issuing from it. She set it aside to cool.

"The long-term effects of the Cruciatus curse," she said, meeting his gaze.

What little colour was in his face drained almost instantly. Hermione half expected him to ask whether she knew what she was getting into – or perhaps tell her that it wasn't a good idea.

Instead he reached across the desk, took her hand in his, entwining their fingers.

"If anyone can figure that out, it's you," he said softly. "But I need you to make sure you're looking out for yourself. I know how much that day at Malfoy Manor affected you and how much it has stayed with you. You need to understand that some of what you find _will_ bring that back."

"I'm prepared for that eventuality," she said, brow furrowed. She was oddly touched by his concern. "I appreciate your support."

"You'll have it, through anything," he said and Hermione caught the deeper meaning. If she got in too far, he would be there. She stared at him for a long moment, allowing the implications of that to sink in. Had she glossed over just how much this would impact her?

She extracted her hand from his, unwrapping the sandwich he had brought.

"So it seems, now that we've been outed," he said, leaning back in his chair, his tone considerably lighter, "my mother _also_ wants us to come for dinner next week."

Hermione paused, the sandwich halfway to her mouth. As his words sunk in she took a bite.

Draco had somewhat willingly agreed to Harry's invitation to dinner on Sunday when she had brought it up Monday evening so she supposed it was only fair if she return the favour and willingness.

"Okay, that's alright," she said, swallowing the bite of sandwich heavily. "Where?"

"At my Aunt Andromeda's," he said. "Teddy will be there and I'll bring Scorp. It'll be fine. She's already accepted it, remember?"

"Right," Hermione said, though she still felt uncertain. The last time she had seen Narcissa Malfoy – aside from at Draco's trial many years ago – had been at the Battle of Hogwarts, over eight years ago. Briefly, however, she was reminded that the woman had contributed to Harry being spared and the downfall of Voldemort by extension.

"Also," he said, gruffly, "I keep forgetting to ask you – the Falcons owners are having a formal gala not this weekend but the next, Saturday night. It's required that I go. Would you like to come with me?"

Hermione blinked, re-playing his words.

"A gala? Like a benefit?" she asked.

"Yes, an overly extravagant, stuffy one," he said. Hermione could tell he wasn't the least bit impressed that he had to attend.

"I'd love to come," she said, smiling shyly.

The concept of him asking her out – especially in such a formal, public capacity – still felt wonderfully foreign to her.

"Great," he responded, rolling his eyes. "I was forced into far too many of these things growing up."

"That explains your enthusiasm," Hermione said, grinning. Finishing her sandwich, she drew the bowl of soup towards her, now sufficiently cool enough to eat.

"Yes," he smirked, "but at least I'll get to show you off."

Hermione felt a flush creep to her cheeks but she didn't respond.

"Now, are you going to come home with me or will I have to force you?" he asked, looking serious. "You've been working so much I've hardly seen you."

"I'll come," she said, sighing, "I just only have so much allotted research time and –"

"And you'll do it tomorrow," he cut her off, quietly but firm. He leaned towards her across the desk. "Right now, you're going to finish your soup, I'm going to take you home, put you in a hot bath and then force you to watch the telly with me until you fall asleep."

"And are you going to join me in the bath?" she asked, glancing up at him over her bowl of soup.

"That can certainly be arranged," he smirked.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:** Hello! Thanks, as always, for all the wonderful, kind words and to those of you following along as well, it all means so much to me. I hope you continue to enjoy xoxo

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

By the time she met with Healer McTavish on Friday, Hermione suspected she had enough of an angle to go off of to continue with her research. She had located a book in the St. Mungo's library on anatomy which had given her some thoughts. But the book had clearly been written by a wizard with a barely passable understanding of human sciences because it was quite simplistic.

"How much do you know about the human nervous system, sir?" she asked her superior as he was seated in her office.

"Functionality-wise? Very little," he admitted. "That is one fault in the healer training system – it is almost entirely focused on healing through magic."

"I agree," Hermione said thoughtfully. "What I intend to pursue is a more in-depth understanding of the nervous system, nerve impulses, and how it all affects the brain via the spinal cord."

McTavish looked at her rather blankly.

"Can you explain that in slightly less Muggle terminology?" he asked, "no offense meant, of course."

"Of course," she said, waving a hand. "In short, when we feel anything, namely pain in this case, the nerves which accept the sensation carry the information to the brain via the spinal cord and back out. I would like to explore how those pain receptors are affected by something so extreme as the Cruciatus Curse. I suspect there might be... maybe some sort of internal blockage, if you will. Something that keeps the brain from processing the impulses properly."

"Sounds complicated," McTavish admitted, "but I see what you're saying, now."

"Keep in mind that much of this is still theory," Hermione said quickly. "I will be visiting Muggle libraries to pursue this further. I have also arranged to meet with a practicing Muggle Neurologist. If I can find the heart of the problem, we will be able to work from there as to determine a solution. That is the aim, anyway."

"I'm impressed," McTavish said, nodding. "Though much of this is beyond my comprehension, I trust you. Perhaps this may lead down a path of teaching more healers a greater understanding of all this."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said, flushing lightly. "I will certainly keep you informed."

* * *

Hermione half suspected Draco would try to get out of having dinner at Harry and Ginny's though he did not. In fact, he took it quite well as Hermione prepared to Apparate them over.

"Be nice," she warned, lips quirked into a smile as she straightened his tie.

"I'm always nice," he scoffed. He planted a quick kiss to her lips. "I will."

After they arrived at the Apparition point, Hermione took his hand and he entwined his fingers with hers. She gave his hand a quick squeeze as she knocked on the door.

"Hermione," Harry said as his bespectacled face appeared in the doorway, grinning. He drew her away from Draco into a hug.

"Hello Harry, thanks for having us over!" she said as she pulled back.

"Right," Harry said, glancing at the blond beside her, "Malfoy."

"Potter," Draco said, thrusting a bottle of wine into Harry's hands, glancing sideways as Ginny walked up as well, "and Potter."

"Hello Malfoy," Ginny said, giving Hermione a significant glance. "We're glad you both could make it."

Hermione walked in and Draco followed, glancing around Grimmauld Place with some interest. She was reminded again that Draco was of the House of Black on his mother's side.

"I'm surprised Harry hasn't given Draco the lecture yet," Hermione said, making a stab at humour. Ginny giggled beside her.

"No need," Harry said airily, not turning to face the rest of them as he walked toward the sitting room, "if Malfoy has any brains to speak of he already knows that if he hurts Hermione I will make his life a living Hell."

"Oh, he knows," Draco said, matching Harry's light tone. He smirked at Hermione with a quick squeeze to her hip.

"Then that's settled," Harry said, finally turning to him. "Now, I've got a very important question."

"What's that?" Draco asked and Hermione thought he looked nervous.

"How does the Falcons' coaching compare to the Arrows'?" Harry asked and he looked so serious Hermione burst out laughing. Inwardly she was relieved Harry had instantly taken the conversation to a place that Draco would be most comfortable with. She knew it meant he was willing to give the blond a shot. Draco paused, confused before he grinned.

"Well, Carrington's a hardarse to be sure, but he's a great coach," Draco began, "while Malcolm was a lot quieter and very strategic. As far as positional coordinating..."

"Come on," Ginny said, dragging Hermione to the kitchen with a grin. "They can talk Quidditch and drink whisky and get to _actually_ know one another. Harry's giving him a chance but you know he'll be watching every word he says tonight."

"As long as they don't start dueling," Hermione said, with a glance back.

"Well if they start dueling, we will step in," Ginny said, grinning, "but Malfoy can handle himself."

"You're right," Hermione said, satisfied, turning back to Ginny. "What would you like help with?"

"Dinner's basically ready," Ginny said with a wave of her hand, "but _you_ owe me some information. Last I heard, the two of you were just sleeping together. Then that _Prophet_ article came out and I nearly had to restrain Harry."

Hermione laughed out loud at the visual.

"Sorry, Gin, I meant to tell you two sooner, it just happened so near to the World Cup I didn't have a chance," she said, making a face. "I guess it just naturally led that way. Though we were both a little hesitant at first."

She had purposely _not_ mentioned anything to do with Draco the last time she had been over for supper, while they had been taking time to consider things. In part because she had feared that if she told anyone she might break down.

"I suspected it might," Ginny said, leaning against the island, "but still. I can hardly believe _you_ are dating Draco Malfoy."

"We're taking things one step at a time," Hermione said, leaning next to Ginny. "And you? How have you been feeling?"

"Wonderful," the redhead said with a sarcastic roll of her eyes, "but Mum says it's all normal."

"That's good," Hermione said with a smile, "are you going to find out the gender?"

"I want to, but Harry doesn't," said Ginny, exasperatedly. "It'll drive me bonkers but I feel like it's important to him. What about you? Any kids in the future?"

"Kids," Hermione said, swallowing heavily. She realized with a jolt that she had never mentioned Scorpius to Ginny. "Maybe. We haven't really discussed it yet, to be honest."

"Probably a good idea to at least know if he _wants_ them," Ginny said and Hermione just nodded, feeling uncomfortable. It had been something she wanted to ask Draco for a while but hadn't found the right moment. Would he be interested in any more children or was he happy with Scorpius? A part of Hermione did want children of her own, but she knew if her and Draco stayed together she would do her best to raise the boy as her own regardless.

"Definitely a good idea," Hermione said after a long pause.

"Another good idea?" Ginny asked, glancing toward the sitting room with a hesitant glance.

"Checking on the boys," Hermione said with a smile. "It's awfully quiet. Maybe they've done each other in and we haven't noticed."

But as it turned out, when Hermione and Ginny walked back into the sitting room, the two men were deep in a Quidditch discussion, a bottle of Ogden's between them. Draco was intricately drawing strategies and formations on the coffee table with his wand while Harry looked on in interest, asking questions.

The two glanced up, almost looking as if they had been found out in something illicit.

"Dinner's ready," Ginny said softly with a smile.

"I still don't see how that can be any more beneficial," Harry was saying as he nodded, "it seems to me it's tying up a beater who would be better served elsewhere."

"It's hit or miss, to be sure," Draco responded, standing with his glass of firewhisky, "but in a high paced grudge match, say, where keeping your seeker safe and free from distractions can mean an early victory, it has its place."

"Fair enough," Harry said, following Ginny into the dining room.

Hermione simply smiled as Draco walked over and swooped down for a lingering kiss, pulling back with a smirk.

"I should have known you would bond over Quidditch," she said.

"Yes, you should have," he agreed with a grin.

"Thank you," she said softly, more serious, "it means a lot to me."

"I know," he responded, his grey eyes meeting hers. "So it means a lot to me, too. Come on."

They all ate in relative silence, enjoying Ginny's delicious cooking. Hermione found herself slightly self-conscious, as she always did when she ate with Draco, at her own mediocre table manners compared to his.

Briefly she wondered how it must have been as a child growing up in such a pureblood household as he had.

She was distracted, however, when his hand came to rest on her thigh, rubbing absently. His grey eyes flashed with a hint of warmth when she looked over at him.

"So, Malfoy," Ginny was saying, "what do you do for fun?"

"I play Quidditch," he said with a shrug.

"That's what you do for work," Ginny corrected with a smile.

"It's both," he commented, taking a sip of his whisky.

Ginny and Harry both laughed. Hermione just smiled, knowing he was being completely honest.

"Hermione, you do realize your children will have no choice but to be Quidditch stars," Harry said. Hermione swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable with the shift in topic. She glanced over, seeing Draco's slightly confused expression. She shrugged.

Folding his napkin, Draco turned back to look at Harry.

"Actually, my son is _already_ planning to be a Quidditch star," he said, casually.

Harry and Ginny paused for a moment, glancing at one another. Harry cleared his throat, turning to Draco with a smile.

"That's wonderful," he said, "and how old is your son?"

"He is four," Draco said, smiling to himself at the brief reaction, "and clearly Hermione hasn't mentioned him to you two yet."

"I wasn't sure whether you wanted me to," Hermione said, slipping her hand into his. He took it, absently pressing a kiss to the back of her hand.

"It's fine," Draco said, continuing, "his name is Scorpius, his mother is my ex-wife, Astoria Greengrass. He is an amazing boy and yes, he has a passion for Quidditch already. Though I'm afraid a part of that is because he likes watching me play. He motivates me every day to do better."

Hermione suspected that if Harry and Ginny had still doubted whether Draco had matured since his youth, that was no longer the case, judging by their matching wide-eyed expressions.

"Well, it would be nice to meet Scorpius one day," Ginny said.

"I'm sure you will," Draco responded with a glance to Hermione then back to Harry. "I hear you've got one on the way. Excited?"

"Bloody terrified," Harry said with a nervous grin. Draco laughed, taking a sip of his whisky.

"I was, too," he admitted, "still am some days. But you'll be fine. A lot of it comes naturally and they're quite a bit more resilient than you might think."

"Right," Harry said, skeptical.

Hermione smiled as she watched Draco in conversation with two of her best friends, regaling stories of Scorpius as a baby and she resolved to talk to Draco about whether or not he would be interested in having more kids. Not anytime soon, of course, but it would be nice to know.

As the night wound down and Hermione took her leave with Draco, she felt confident about how the dinner had gone and was extremely glad that her friends had been so accepting.

* * *

"So," Draco said, turning to her as they arrived back in his flat, "it seems there is something we need to discuss."

"What do you mean?" she asked, freezing. Had she misinterpreted how the evening had gone?

"I can read you like a book, you know?" he said, smirking, "you'd have made a terrible Slytherin."

"I'll take that as a compliment," she scoffed. He nudged her shoulder, laughing. Then he looked down at her, his expression serious.

"You want kids of your own someday, yeah?" he asked, eyebrow raised. "I figure we ought to discuss it, given that we're together now."

"I think so," she said, swallowing heavily, "but I know we've just barely started things and you're happy with just Scorpius, and I don't mean to discount your relationship with him at all, so if you're not interested –"

"Stop," he said, cutting her tirade off with an amused expression. He stared at her for a long moment before he continued. "I am happy with Scorpius. I've given it a lot of thought and for a long time I thought it would be just me and him."

He paused, running a hand through his hair. He took a seat on the couch and Hermione followed suit.

"I've seen the way you look at Scorpius," he said, glancing at her, "and he's a great kid and I've always tried to give him a different upbringing than the one I had. I remember... just _wishing_ I had a sibling. Growing up as an only child has its benefits but it can be very lonely."

"I felt the same," Hermione breathed.

"So," he continued, "and I know things with us are still new, but if things should happen to go that way in the future, I am not opposed. Scorpius has asked me before why he doesn't have any siblings."

"Oh," Hermione said, suddenly at a loss for words.

"Not any time too soon, of course," Draco added.

"Of course," Hermione said, a little too emphatically. He laughed.

"So Potter isn't _that_ bad, anymore," he said with a smirk, wrapping an arm around her. "He seems a lot more tolerable than I remembered."

"I told you," she scoffed, "and he's always been tolerable. Well, mostly."

"Try being in Slytherin, with Potter around," Draco said, shaking his head. "Always the hero. No matter what bullshit he pulled, the professors all loved him."

"Except Snape," Hermione amended.

"Except Snape," Draco agreed. "Hell, even Slughorn was in the Potter fan club and he was head of Slytherin house."

"And remember, that day in potions..." she trailed off, looking at nothing particular, her vision glazed.

"What?" he asked, giving her an odd look. He waved a hand in front of her unblinking stare.

But Hermione had been struck by a thought – her mind churning with a realization just beyond the surface of her brain. As she strained to process it, staring blankly off towards the floor she jolted with a thought.

"Slughorn!" she exclaimed, jumping to her feet.

"Pardon?" he asked, blinking wildly at her sudden change in demeanour.

"Potions class," she said, as if he were meant to understand any better. "Do you still have your copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ from NEWT potions?"

"Probably," he shrugged, "on the bookshelf somewhere."

Hermione rushed over, skimming the spines of the books on his shelf with her index finger, murmuring the titles to herself under her breath.

"Here," she breathed, drawing the book she was looking for and skimming the contents. Finding the topic of interest, she turned to a page and quickly read through it, her eyes widening.

"Have you got an owl?" she asked, biting her lip.

"Yes, he's perched in the study," Draco said, brow furrowed in confusion.

"May I borrow him to send a letter?" she questioned, her eyes flicking in the direction of the room he had mentioned.

"Of course," he replied, lips twitching. "I presume eventually I'll understand what this is all about."

"Yes," she said distractedly, walking into the study as he trailed behind her. She sat at the desk where a quill and parchment was waiting beside the owl perch and drew the quill, hovering it over a blank sheet of parchment.

 _Please meet me at St. Mungo's tomorrow if your schedule allows. I will be there from 8 am until 6 pm. Any Healer will be able to direct you to me._

 _Thank you,_

 _Hermione_

She addressed the letter and gave it to the owl, watching as it took off through the open window.

Draco had given her privacy to write the letter though she made no effort to hide it from him.

"Everything okay?" he asked, walking over and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Yes," she said, thoughtfully, "though I won't know for certain if anything will come of that until tomorrow, at the earliest."

"Good," he said, running his hands down to squeeze her arse, "as far as tonight goes, I have to suggest you go to bed and get some sleep."

He leaned in to trail kisses along her neck and collarbone; Hermione's head fell back instinctively as he worked his delicate magic on her sensitive skin.

"Not tired yet," she murmured, smiling faintly.

"I'll take that as a challenge," he growled in her ear, picking her up and carrying her across the hall to his bedroom, tossing her on the bed and on top of her in an instant, kissing her, his hands already undressing her.

* * *

Hermione finished up with a patient the next morning, about to take a short lunch break and then she had time to continue her mind healing research.

When she walked out of the room she was in she was momentarily surprised to see Theo Nott leaning back against the wall, looking around absent-mindedly.

"Thanks for coming," she murmured.

"Right, what did you need to talk to me about?" the man asked, raising an eyebrow.

"More like I wanted to show you something," she explained. "Follow me, please."

Hermione led the man to her office, fidgeting nervously with her wand. She was taking a gamble that Theo would be willing to help her but she wanted to talk to him before she told Draco what she was thinking.

She bustled about her office, preparing some space on her workbench and withdrawing one of the vials of blood she had been storing since the night Astoria had been at St. Mungo's following her collapse.

She glanced at Theo, looking uncomfortable and bewildered, and hesitated.

"Well, look," she said. She drew a few drops of Astoria's blood from the vial with her wand and set it on a small dish. She cast a magnifying spell and the drops showed microscopic, projected in the air. "And just for the record, a lot of this is guesswork or extrapolation. Here's my blood." She drew a small incision on her palm, siphoning a vial of her own blood out before sealing the cut. She placed a few drops in another small tray. It projected alongside Astoria's.

"Wow," Theo breathed. "I never realized it would show like that."

While the two blood samples projected side by side, Astoria's was much darker, as if tempered with flecks of black.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking," Hermione said, "and while I have no expertise with blood curses, I wanted to see how it reacts. It is my belief that as the curse grows stronger, it will begin to expand within the blood cells, suffocating the oxygen out and weakening her body and vital organs as a result."

Hermione bit her lip, pausing. She hoped this wasn't too complicated for Theo, who had very little understanding of science and medicine.

"I considered the merits of a blood transfusion – that is, piping fresh, non-contaminated blood into her system. But look." She drew one drop of Astoria's blood, dropping it into a dish of much more of her own. Almost instantly the whole dish turned dark. "It's too overpowering. We would have to withdraw far too much of her blood and replace it than would be safe, and even then it would likely be overtaken by the curse. Sort of like dark ink in water. It might dilute it some but it would still be there."

"I understand," Theo said, nodding. "Why are you telling me this and not Draco?"

"Because I had a thought last night and I recalled Astoria saying you work with potions. I don't mean to get anyone's hopes up, you need to understand, but I need to attempt to flush this out before suggesting to Draco that there might be something I can do."

Theo nodded again, but still looked generally confused.

"Alright, so look at this now." She took a separate dish of her own blood and drew a separate substance from her potions cabinet. "This is poison."

She placed a few drops of the poison into the dish with her blood. Theo gasped, stepping closer to peer at the magnified blood.

"It's very similar," he murmured. "Are you suggesting the curse behaves like poison?"

"In a way, yes, but no," Hermione said quickly. "It does look similar – suggesting maybe the blood reacts to the curse in the same way it would poison."

She added an antidote to the poison she had used and the blood cleared to red again.

"Theo, do you remember the day Slughorn gave us poisons and had us prepare antidotes?" she said, taking a deep breath.

"Of course," he scoffed, "Sluggy didn't even look at my antidote because he was so chuffed with Potter's bezoar trick."

"Yes, that's what I remembered too, initially," she said. "But do you remember how we were to go about creating the antidote?"

Theo paused, gazing at her for a long moment. She could almost see the cogs in his head whirling.

"We had to separate the components of the poison to determine what would counteract it. Do you mean to suggest you think we can create an antidote for the curse?" he asked very softly, as if not entirely believing it possible.

"Not a conventional antidote, no," she said quickly. "But do you suppose we might be able to isolate the curse –" she waved at the contaminated blood sample – "and separate the elements in much the same way as we might a poisonous substance? I am not a potions expert and so this is why I called you in."

"I mean, we might," Theo said, rubbing a hand across his stubble, "an antidote is designed to draw the poison out. I'm not sure how easily we can draw the curse from her blood."

"I mean to try," Hermione said, boldly. "If you can lend me any expertise I would appreciate it."

"Of course," Theo said, suddenly sounding quite small. "If there is potentially something I could do to help her... well, I'd do it."

"I don't think it will be easy, if it's even possible," Hermione cautioned, "given that her blood wasn't simply contaminated one day. But if we can do this," she gestured to the blood she had poisoned and then cured, "to her blood, I think that might be a good day."

"Very much," Theo agreed. He was still peering at the magnified blood composition.

"It might be that if we were able to come up with something, she might need to take it long term. It would depend on the hold which the curse has on her blood – whether we can eliminate it entirely or just drive a temporary wedge in it, so to speak."

"Werewolves take wolfsbane for the duration of their lives if they want to avoid the consequences," Theo shrugged, "given the alternative, taking a potion on a regular basis would not be an issue for her."

Hermione knew the alternative was that the curse would eventually take over Astoria and claim her life. How soon could only be a guess. She bit her lip, glancing over at Theo.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked, nervously. He nodded, tilting his head in acquiescence. "Draco told me that the curse was dormant in Astoria's bloodline. Is she the first to be affected?"

"She isn't the first, no," Theo said, shaking his head. "But the first in almost two hundred years. It didn't fully manifest in Astoria until she was already of age."

"And no one ever tried to do anything about it before?" Hermione asked.

"Back in those times," Theo said, hesitating, "people viewed curses like the one in the Greengrass family as ultimately taboo. It may have even been the case that the affected family member was shunned, in fear that it may have spread. The Greengrass family have always been of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, of course, but records are shady as to their inclusion by the rest prior to the last two hundred years."

"That's dreadful," Hermione said, a shiver passing her spine.

"Advances in healing practice, of course, show us that she is not contagious," he hesitated, frowning. "And why the curse skipped so many generations and chose Astoria... we'll likely never know."

Hermione stared at Theo for a long moment, her brow furrowed.

"It must be so difficult," she said softly, hoping she hadn't crossed a boundary between her and the Slytherin she had barely known in school.

"Yes," he said, swallowing. "It is. I've loved Astoria for a long time, as a friend, even before I knew about the curse. The hardest to accept is the unfairness of it. She's _such_ a great person and a wonderful mother." Theo paused, deep in thought. "When her and Draco split and she and I grew to know one another again, I knew that it wasn't optional for me. That I would simply give her the best life I could until the time came. Of course, it's difficult. I wish every day her circumstances were different. I've pored through the old tomes but there's nothing, and she prefers not to dwell on it."

"Do you suppose we let her know?" Hermione asked. Theo thought for a long moment, staring at her.

"Let's try first and see if there is any promise," he said softly after a moment, his voice sounding pained. "I wouldn't want to tell her there is hope if we find there is none."

"Okay, that sounds fair," Hermione said. "I'll explain to Draco tonight and I'd like to begin working on it this week. My research time is nearly up today but I have some every day. I suspect I will be able to make time for this on top of my research study."

"Are you sure?" Theo asked, looking skeptical. "Sounds like you're taking a lot on your plate."

"I can handle it," she said, biting her lip. She made a face. "I hope."

Theo stared at her for a long moment, his brow furrowed. He scuffed the floor with his boot, looking as if he were trying to think of something to say.

"Why are you willing to do all of this for someone you hardly know?" he blurted suddenly. "I mean, I know she's Scorp's mum and it'd be hard on Draco..."

Hermione wrung her hands, considering his question. Why was she so convicted that she needed to help Astoria? The girl was nice and the unwitting victim of horrible circumstances she had been roped into simply by being born.

She kept coming back to an image of Astoria in that hospital bed, hardly coherent but thinking only of others. The way Draco spoke of her with admiration. Scorpius' youthful enthusiasm and how much his parents both loved him – so much that they were willing to set aside literally everything else to keep him happy and well provided for.

"If I don't try to help her, then who will?" she finally said, shrugging.

Theo's head tilted and if Hermione didn't know any better she would have thought she saw some genuine emotion flit across his face. She wasn't certain she _didn't_ know better.

"I'd like to help you work on it, if that's alright," he declared. "I set my own hours so let me know when and what day you intend to start."

"Alright, I will. Thursday, most likely," she said with a small smile.

With a nod, Theo left her office and Hermione pulled a stack of parchment in front of her for the remainder of her research period. Though she had been given approval from McTavish to carry on with her research, it had become painfully obvious that she wasn't going to find the answers she needed at St. Mungo's.

She had found some helpful resources on anatomy that had so far provided much of the basis for her work. But even so, she would need more if she was to prove her thesis and potentially discover any way to advance the standstill at which the magical world found itself on this issue.

Hermione's aim was to visit a Muggle library tomorrow – and she had a meeting with the Muggle Neurologist on Wednesday. She was desperately hoping that _something_ would lead somewhere.

* * *

"You mean to do _what_?" Draco exclaimed, looking bewildered and somewhat incredulous.

"I know it sounds crazy," Hermione disclaimed, running a hand through her hair, "but don't you think if there's even a chance that it might work we should at least try?"

Hermione had gone to Draco's flat that evening to explain to him her new undertaking.

"I mean, yeah, but I never even considered that it might be possible. It's a _curse_ , Hermione, not an illness. It's uncharted territory." He shook his head, letting out a heavy breath. "But, if you and Theo think there's a chance, far be it from me to suggest otherwise. And while I could make certain potions in my sleep, a lot of potions theory has slipped over the years."

"It can't hurt," Hermione said, frowning. "What if there is a way but I never bothered to try?"

Draco stared at her for a long moment, in much the same way Theo had looked at her earlier. He took a step closer and reached up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear.

"You have such an amazing heart, you know?" he asked, softly. He met her eyes with that gaze that made her shiver and she couldn't look away. "Just – don't take on more than you can handle. You've already been working yourself to the bone."

"I won't," she murmured, wrapping her arms around his waist. She leaned her face into his chest, listening to his heartbeat, her eyes slipping shut. She suddenly realized how tired she was.

Draco pulled her closer, his arms slipping over her shoulders.

"Are we still on for the charity ball this weekend?" he asked, softly.

"Yes, of course," she said, pulling away slightly to look at him. "I'm looking forward to it."

"I'm not," he scoffed. "I've been to enough of these functions to last a lifetime. _But_ I'll have the most beautiful, kind, talented, intelligent woman there as my date." He smirked teasingly.

"Stop," she murmured, flushing. She yawned widely against her own volition.

"It's all true," he quipped, "now let's get some sleep. I've got early practice."


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note:** Hey friends. Thanks for all the reviews, follows, and favourites. I'm so blown away by all the positive support for this fic and I really do love reading all of your thoughts on how this is progressing. I hope you enjoy xoxo.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

Hermione had always believed the wizarding world to be significantly lacking in information, particularly regarding a number of important topics. Science being one of them. Electricity and power being another, but that was currently irrelevant.

Where the St. Mungo's library had been sorely lacking, the University College London library she visited was the complete opposite. Staring at the shelves, completely _full_ of medical resources, rows upon rows, she suddenly found she didn't know where to begin.

There were texts specifically referencing human anatomy, the nervous system, pain receptors and the like. It was far more than even Hermione, with a magical education rather than a medicinal one, could comprehend.

McTavish had allowed an extension of her daily research time, scheduled at the end of her day, which was good because she was going to need it.

Pulling a heavy stack from the shelves, refraining irritably from using her magic to transport them to a table, Hermione sat down and got to work. She skimmed book after book, inconspicuously making copies of the pages she found to be relevant to go over back in her office.

She was thrilled to find that she had so much new research – and some of it actually corroborated her theory but without seeing exactly how the Cruciatus behaved after the fact, it couldn't be guaranteed. She swallowed at the thought, feeling a sudden heaviness in her stomach at the knowledge of where she would have to look next.

She worked well into the evening, so caught up in the multitudes of new and foreign information to learn and realized only too late it was well past the end of her shift when she Apparated home. Completely exhausted, her brain tired and eyes strained, Hermione made herself a quick meal, took one of her vials of Dreamless Sleep, and went to bed.

* * *

The next day Hermione found herself quite overwhelmed with fresh information as well, as she had scheduled a meeting with a Muggle Neurologist during her research period. She told the man she was researching a book and while he seemed busy and somewhat erratic, he granted her a brief visit, for which Hermione was extremely grateful.

From what she could surmise, as she had frantically taken notes, her research seemed to actually be going somewhere. The man explained pain receptors, the roles of nerves, the spinal cord and the brain, and Hermione started to make sense of it all.

What she was most interested in, however, was when the man explained the difference between acute and chronic pain. In her understanding, acute pain would recede and vanish after a cause of injury was no longer relevant. But – in the case of chronic pain – even if the cause of the pain is absent, the pain receptors continue to fire, thus confusing the brain.

Her heart had begun to race, pondering the implications. What if the Cruciatus curse behaved in that same way, keeping the pain receptors firing, long after the curse was lifted? _What if_ the pain from the curse was _enough_ to accelerate the process of pain developing from acute to chronic? Was it so severe as to amplify everything that was known in other cases?

It felt like a stretch, even to Hermione, but could it be possible that the Cruciatus was vicious enough for the lingering pain to drive the patient unstable – to push the brain beyond its capabilities?

While Hermione considered she could have been simply grasping at straws, much of her existing research pointed to a relationship between the curse and the nervous system. Could this somehow be related – could it be that this was the missing link responsible for the mental instability often found in victims of the curse?

Hermione pondered her new findings extensively, even after she returned to St. Mungo's, writing down her theories while they were fresh on her brain. She almost couldn't believe how much information her Muggle research had turned up in comparison to her research at St. Mungo's and found it imperative to visit the Janus Thickey Ward.

Though even the thought made her shiver, Hermione suspected it was the best way to potentially help those patients. It was what kept her going, even as she worked to exhaustion almost every day. If she could possibly help all those people... it would all be worth it.

Hermione worked until she could no longer put off going home to prepare for dinner with Narcissa and Andromeda. Carefully stacking her notes, she quickly left the hospital.

Draco had requested she dress casual but bring something nice to change into for dinner as Narcissa was _traditional_ like that. She didn't know what exactly that was about.

Despite knowing better, Hermione still felt extremely nervous to meet the woman.

* * *

Draco felt oddly nervous for his mother to officially meet Hermione. Even though he knew his mother was relatively approving – she would likely still make her uncomfortable.

He'd had early Quidditch practice and picked Scorpius up on his way home. Scorpius and Teddy never wanted to miss an opportunity to see one another.

"Dad?" Scorpius asked, walking up to him. "Is Hermione your new special friend? Like Theo and mum?"

Draco considered the question for a moment, his brow furrowed. He crouched down to meet Scorpius' level.

"Yeah, she is, Scorp. Is that okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Scorpius said, rubbing his nose. "Theo makes mum happy and I want you to be happy, too."

"Good," Draco said with a wink, jostling Scorp, ruffling his hair. The boy giggled as there was a knock at the door. "Why don't you go get your broom, yeah?"

The boy ran off to his room and Draco opened the door, smiling as Hermione walked in, fidgeting exhaustively with her hands. Clearly she was nervous.

"Hi," he murmured, kissing her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, returning the kiss. After a moment, Draco pulled away, giving her a look.

Just then Scorpius walked back into the room and she flushed, embarrassed. Then as if noticing his broom, her eyes widened and she shook her head almost imperceptibly.

"Here," Draco said, tossing her one of his own brooms.

"I can't," she hissed, looking at the broom as if it were to poison her.

"Of course you can," Draco said dismissively, "I saw you fly, remember? You'll be fine."

"I'll teach you how to fly, Hermione," Scorpius said with a wide grin.

Hermione paused for a moment, ceasing her resistance and Draco smirked, meeting her eyes.

"That would be wonderful, Scorpius, thank you," Hermione said to the boy, "I'm afraid I'm not as good of a flier as your dad is."

"Neither am I," Scorpius said, with a smirk so like his father's, "but one day I'll be better."

"You think so?" Draco asked, tossing Scorpius over his shoulder as he squealed with laughter. Then he set the boy down. "Of course you will, because I'll teach you everything I know."

When Draco looked at Hermione she was watching him with a look she sometimes had when he talked about Scorpius. He met her eyes with a brief smile.

"Shall we go?" he asked.

"Yes!" Scorpius exclaimed, grinning once more.

"I suppose so," Hermione said, sounding resigned and Draco walked closer to her.

"It'll be fine," he assured her in a softer voice, giving her a quick kiss. "I _promise_ you."

"Okay," she said, biting her lip.

"Besides, you know Andromeda already, don't you?" he asked.

"Yes," Hermione said, "though I've seen her only a few times since we lost Tonks."

Draco stared at her for a moment, once more reminded of the extremely different paths their lives had followed until just recently. Once more, wondering how things might have been. That she had been friends with a cousin he had never been allowed to meet.

But then she took his hand, squeezing reassuringly and Draco smiled. He picked up Scorpius, took Hermione's hand and Apparated the three of them to see his mother.

When they arrived at the house Scorpius walked off almost instantly to locate Teddy for their usual pre-dinner fly. Draco set his and Hermione's brooms down, guiding her into the sitting room.

"Hermione!" Andromeda was the first to stand, walking over to give her a long, meaningful embrace before she also hugged Draco, "and Draco. Good to see you both. Hermione, I was surprised to hear I would be seeing you more often."

"Yes," Hermione said hesitantly, glancing to Draco, "I suppose we will."

Narcissa also rose and walked over gracefully; the contrast between the two sisters was stark, even after so many years back together, Draco always noticed.

"Draco," she murmured, kissing him on the cheeks, doing the same to Hermione, "Miss Granger."

"Please, call me Hermione," she said, flushing lightly.

Narcissa said nothing for a moment, simply placed her hands on Hermione's shoulders, assessing her closely. Finally she released her, stepping back.

"Hermione," she said, demurely inclining her head. "It is wonderful to truly meet you. She is lovely, Draco."

"I know," Draco said, pressing a kiss to Hermione's temple.

"Scorpius and Teddy have gone outside already?" Narcissa asked mildly.

"I believe so," Draco responded with a glance around. He didn't hear the two boys.

"Perhaps we should re-locate," she responded. "Do you fly, Hermione?"

"Not well, I'm afraid," the brunette answered, biting her lip.

"Ah," Narcissa responded, nodding. "I'm sure Draco will be able to teach you."

Draco caught Hermione's eye, smirking at the flush rising in her cheeks, knowing she was remembering the same night as he was, when he had taken her flying.

"Yes," Hermione responded, "Draco is an amazing teacher."

Draco bit back a laugh, briefly grazing her fingers with his own. He picked up both brooms, leading Hermione into the expansive yard where Scorpius and Teddy were already tossing a Quaffle around. Scorpius' broom didn't fly as fast or as high, of course, but he was certainly shaping up to be an excellent flier and Draco always felt a strong sense of pride at how Scorpius aspired to be like him.

"Want to keep?" he asked Hermione, smirking as he anticipated her reaction.

"Definitely not," she replied, "I can hardly _keep_ myself stable."

Andromeda and Narcissa had settled into a table in the garden with a pitcher of lemonade, presumably served by Narcissa's elf, Patroclus, that had moved in with her. He saw the two women smiling, amused by the exchange.

"You keep, Draco!" Teddy said, flying over. "You can't chase, it's too unfair."

"Okay, I'll keep," Draco said, grinning. "You alright?" he asked Hermione, who was mounting her broom with unease.

"Absolutely," she said, flustered. The she hesitantly took off and Draco mounted his own broom, flying toward the goalposts that had been installed when Teddy was younger.

Draco subsequently spent the next hour blocking some shots, allowing others to slip past him and keeping an eye on Hermione, who, once she got the hang of it, was flying quite well and even took a few turns with the Quaffle.

The thrown together game came to an end as Patroclus came outside to announce that dinner would be in fifteen minutes. Draco could see Hermione stiffen from across the field and rolled his eyes, remembering her strange pre-occupation with House Elves in school.

"Please don't start any fires over Patroclus," he murmured after they had both landed. "He is treated fairly, chooses his own outfits and earns a small wage which he spends mostly on pillowcases and chocolate frogs. Alright?"

"That's acceptable," she responded after a short pause. Then she smiled, nudging him. "Few more years and I might be able to get a goal past you, you reckon?"

"Weeks, if you were serious about learning," he teased, "but if it takes years, I'm willing to work with you anyway."

Draco felt a sudden tightness in his chest as she beamed at him.

* * *

"So, Miss Granger, Draco tells me you work at St. Mungo's," Narcissa Malfoy commented at dinner.

"Please, Hermione," she replied, flushing as she prepared herself for what she was sure to be an onslaught of questions. "And yes, that's correct, Mrs Malfoy. I've recently earned a title of Senior Healer."

"That's fabulous... Hermione," Narcissa commented, her smile faltering for a moment. "You may call me Narcissa."

Hermione flashed a tight smile as she focused extensively on using her very best table manners, taking glances over at Draco to ensure she was following his example. Table etiquette had _not_ been a main focus of her education at home while growing up.

"What sort of tasks do you do in your position?" Narcissa asked. The woman was, Hermione found, extremely intimidating. Not only tempered through her memories of Narcissa and Lucius but simply in the way she carried herself with utmost grace and confidence.

"I am now afforded a greater deal of responsibility, in working on more serious cases, such as when Draco was injured," she glanced at him and he grinned, "as well as my own personal research and potions development. I am currently pursuing research on the long term effects and hopefully – _recovery_ – from the Cruciatus curse."

Narcissa tilted her head, lips pursed as a heavy, awkward silence fell over the group. Hermione was forced to come to terms with just how very significant a statement it was, given that she had been tortured by Narcissa's sister _in_ Narcissa's house.

Under the table, Draco grabbed her fingers reassuringly.

"That," Narcissa began, swallowing heavily, "is very admirable of you, dear. I loved my sister for many years but she went mad long before she went to Azkaban, and afterwards, I scarcely recognized who she had become."

Hermione's eyebrows flew into her hair. There would be no ignoring the elephant in the room, then.

"I do apologize for the injustices you experienced at her hands, and those within my former home."

"Thank you," Hermione said, feeling the weight of the words heavily on her chest. She forced herself to control her breathing. "I appreciate that."

The awkward, tense silence that followed was broken by Scorpius, as he and Teddy shared some joke that caused the younger boy to break into giggles.

"Scorp," Draco scolded, but his lips were twitching.

"Sorry!" Scorpius exclaimed, covering his mouth to contain himself. Beside him Teddy was grinning, his hair turning lime green from bubble gum pink.

"Not at the table, Ted," Andromeda said casually.

But the heavy air that hung over her had passed, as if released from a confined space and Hermione found herself able to relax and enjoy the rest of dinner.

"I am told that some of the funds raised at the gala we are attending this weekend will be allocated to St. Mungo's operating budget," Draco announced to the group at large, with a glance to Hermione. She hadn't been aware of that fact. Maybe they would actually be able to keep someone properly in potions production so they wouldn't be constantly low.

"Isn't that wonderful," Andromeda commented.

"You both are attending?" Narcissa asked, her blue eyes settling on Draco.

"Yes," he responded, nodding.

"And have you a gown?" the woman asked, turning to Hermione.

Hermione felt a flush creep into her cheeks as she realized she had been so busy she had completely forgot and she _knew_ full well she didn't have anything formal enough in her modest closet.

"Not yet," she replied, "I will be going to Diagon Alley tomorrow evening after I am done work for the day to pick one out."

Narcissa did not need to know she had _forgot._ She suspected that would be some travesty of the worst sort among high society circles.

"I will take you to Twilfitt and Tattings," Narcissa commented, her bright, unblinking eyes fixed on Hermione. "If you wish, that is."

Beside her Draco snickered and Narcissa shot him a look.

"I..., " Hermione paused, swallowing with some effort, "that would be lovely, Narcissa, thank you."

While the idea terrified her beyond reasonable measure, the thought that Narcissa was making an effort left a tightness in Hermione's chest. She could make an effort, too.

Her own mother suddenly felt so far away.

"Very well," Narcissa commented, clearing her throat and fussing with her serviette. "How does six sound?"

"Six sounds perfect."

* * *

"You're going shopping with my mother," Draco burst out, the normally composed wizard breaking into peals of laughter, wiping a tear from his eye.

Hermione smiled faintly, wondering if she had dug herself some sort of hole she wouldn't be able to get out of.

They had stopped at Nott Estates on the way home, to drop off Scorpius and stayed for a brief visit with Astoria and Theo. When Draco had mentioned that Narcissa was taking Hermione shopping, Astoria had merely raised her eyebrows, holding back a smile.

"I couldn't very well say no, could I?"

"Merlin, no," he agreed, still clutching at his stomach, "you would have offended her. I wish I could be a fly on that wall."

"She seems willing to create a relationship between us, and so I am as well," Hermione said, feeling somewhat defensive.

"Yes, she does," Draco said, sobering almost immediately. "And I'm glad for that."

"And if that means I need to experience what everyone else already knows about, then so be it," she said with an odd sort of finality, forcing a gruff smile.

"It will be fine," he said, taking her into his arms and gazing down at her. "There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

"What is it?" she asked, brow furrowed.

"Well," he began, pulling her with him into the couch, between his legs and she settled back into his chest. "It's something I've been thinking about for a while, and if anything, re-connecting with you might have delayed it, if I'm honest."

She glanced back, curious and Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I was thinking of moving," he said, "of getting a house. This flat was fine when Scorpius was still younger but it would be nice to have more space. A yard."

"That's reasonable," Hermione said, swallowing with some difficulty. It would be strange not having him next door.

"I just remember how much fun I had growing up in Wiltshire, you know, before the Manor became what it did," he continued, "and seeing Scorp with Teddy – well, I'm more than capable of giving him that. As he grows older, and hopefully, spends more time with me."

Hermione intertwined her fingers with his hand that was wrapped around her waist.

"It makes perfect sense," Hermione murmured, "and I know Scorpius would love it."

"Nothing so big as the Manor, I don't think," he said, thoughtful. "But a good house. Outside of London or in the country."

Hermione was silent, caught momentarily in her own thoughts. Obviously he would still be just a quick Apparition trip away.

"I haven't started looking yet," he said, "but it would be nice, if you were to provide your thoughts once I do. I know it's early but maybe, one day, you might want to live there too."

Hermione spun her head around, meeting his gaze.

"Really?" she asked, searching his grey eyes.

"Really," he murmured in response, bringing her hand to his lips. "If you were to one day live with me and Scorpius, I would like it to be a place I knew you loved."

"I would be honoured," she breathed, feeling rather overwhelmed.

"Good," he said, pushing her hair aside as he planted a line of kisses along her neck and collarbone. A shiver ran down Hermione's spine as her eyes fluttered shut, arching into him. He worked his way along her jaw, his lips teasingly brushing against hers.

"We ought to get you to bed," he murmured, his words full of promise, as his lips curved into a smirk, "you've got a big day of shopping tomorrow."

* * *

Theo came by during Hermione's research period the following day, as they had arranged the previous night. Her morning had been stressful and fraught with complicated issues and patients with extreme circumstances.

It was the downside to being a senior healer, she mused, that more often than not, her patients presented with serious, often life threatening conditions.

As a result, she found she was glad for a break from the floor, even if it did mean facing an insurmountable issue of her own. How to possibly, if at all, extract the curse from Astoria's blood.

"You ready?" she asked Theo, with a brisk smile that she thought might have appeared more like a grimace.

"Ready as ever," Theo replied, rocking on his heels. Hermione thought he looked nervous which made sense because she was nervous too.

He followed her to her office and they quickly and quietly set to work setting up the potions bench.

"How do you suppose we begin?" she asked Theo, hoping he had an idea because she didn't.

"I guess, we start with treating the affected blood as if it's been poisoned and see if we can dissect it like we might in preparing an antidote," Theo commented. "Then at least we might have somewhere to go from there if it doesn't work."

"Right," Hermione said, though she wasn't entirely sure how to begin that. It had been a number of years since she had followed this procedure. She drew her potion-making text as a reference, quickly reading through the process.

They both fell into silence once more, concentrating on their efforts. Hermione could tell by the look on Theo's face as he repeatedly ran a hand through his hair that he was having little more luck than she was. It became clear early on that the curse was not behaving like poison, although by the time Hermione needed to return to treating patients, they had created a draught that actually altered the composition of the blood, if only slightly.

"It isn't what we're looking for," Theo sighed, 'but it proves that the curse _can_ in fact be affected by potions."

"True," Hermione commented. "Perhaps it's a matter of determining which element of this draught was responsible for the change, and go from there?"

"Sounds like the best consideration for the time being," Theo agreed. "I'll take this home and continue working on it in my lab. I couldn't ask you to surrender your research time working on it."

"I can keep working on it, as well, when I have time," Hermione said, biting her lip. "And if either of us discovers something we can re-convene?"

"Right," Theo said, seeming deep in thought. "Right. I mean, we weren't expecting much off the start, were we?"

"Not necessarily," Hermione said quickly. "There are other things we can try."

She smiled, hoping it reached her eyes.

"Yeah," Theo said. "Thanks, Hermione. I really appreciate your willingness to help with this."

"Of course," Hermione said, remembering why they were even doing this in the first place. "Maybe the key is to look closer into the natural properties of the ingredients themselves. We're creating something that's never been made, after all."

"Good idea," Theo said. "Oh, and have fun dress shopping with Narcissa tonight."

Hermione met his eyes, nerves creeping in once more at the poorly held back grin crossing his face.

"I'm going to regret agreeing to that, aren't I?" she asked him honestly.

"Yes," he said immediately. " _Especially_ you. You don't strike me as the 'loves-shopping-for-frilly-dresses' type, let alone with your boyfriend's mum. _Let alone_ that your boyfriend's mum is Narcissa Malfoy."

"That I am not," she said with a sigh, resigning herself to the evening that she had almost managed to put from her mind. "Thanks for the honesty, anyways."

"I'm good for that, you'll find," Theo said, grinning, "just ask Draco."

Despite herself, Hermione smiled. It was interesting to see a different side of the quiet, bookish Slytherin. Even more so given that he seemed to be Draco's best mate.

"Well, I've got to get back to healing," she said, "but do let me know if you find anything?"

"Of course," Theo nodded. "Thanks again."

Then he was gone and Hermione gathered her charts and her wand, leaving her quiet office in exchange for the chaos of the healing floor.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the reviews, favourites and follows. It probably sounds repetitive but the support you all give my vision for this fic means so much. It hasn't been an easy week and all your wonderful words have made it a bit easier and I appreciate it all. Please enjoy.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

Hermione Apparated home to her flat to change before meeting Narcissa at Twilfitt and Tattings. There was _no_ way she was going to meet the woman wearing her healer's robes.

She arrived precisely five minutes early, slightly dismayed to see Narcissa already there, standing idly within the shop, her lips pursed.

"Hello," Hermione said as she walked up, nervously adjusting the strap of her beaded bag.

"Hermione," Narcissa said, leaning down to kiss Hermione's cheeks and Hermione followed suit, becoming more and more accustomed to this bizarre tradition. "So lovely to see you again."

"You as well," Hermione said, doing her best to hide her nerves. It was one thing to meet the woman when Draco was there with her; another entirely when alone.

Madam Twilfitt was quick to rush over and offer assistance, especially when she noticed Narcissa Malfoy.

"We will take a brief look on our own," Narcissa told the woman with a tight smile.

"Of course," she said, bowing her head as she stepped away.

Narcissa then proceeded to place over a dozen dresses into a magical clothes rack with her wand that appeared to roll along after them.

"Try these for a start," the woman commented, leading Hermione to a dressing room.

Hermione very nearly laughed, thinking the woman was making a stab at humour when she realized that this really _was_ meant to be just a start.

"And do show me," Narcissa said, "once you have decided on a style we will have it tailored to fit you."

After the first six dresses were resounding _'no_ 's, Hermione was still feeling positive. Following the next six, however, her optimism began to wane.

Somewhere around the third or fourth dress she had started to suspect that more had been added to the rack, and after the twelfth she was sure of it, as there seemed to be another twelve dresses.

Even the ones Hermione had liked, she didn't dare share her opinion given the look on Narcissa's face.

"Honestly, it's as if fashion is no longer important here," Narcissa commented loudly, inspecting her nails. Hermione saw Madam Twilfitt rush off to the other side of the shop, red in the face.

After two hours, Hermione was exhausted from her long, trying day; she was hungry as she hadn't had time to eat, and she was thoroughly tired of trying on dresses.

"What about that one?" she asked, pointing meekly to one hanging at the back of the rack.

"Try it," Narcissa said with a flippant wave, "If you like it."

Hermione hastened to bring the dress into the dressing room with her. She had half expected Narcissa to reject the thought.

Hermione felt hopeful, though by this time she felt she ought to know better, as she tried on the dress. It was a silky emerald green, strapless with a sweetheart neckline, which clung to the knee and then flared to the floor.

"Oh," Narcissa said softly as she glanced up when Hermione stepped out of the dressing room. She stood to walk over, appraising Hermione closely.

Hermione nervously pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, unnerved by the scrutiny. She wasn't feeling particularly assertive in the woman's presence.

"Draco will love it," Narcissa commented, her head tilting. She briefly touched Hermione's bare shoulder then drew her hand back, as if she had crossed a line.

"I like it," Hermione said, fidgeting with an embellishment at the hip.

"Yes, I think so," Narcissa said, her tone soft. She just continued to stare at Hermione, meeting her eyes. "You know, you're the first woman Draco has ever introduced to me."

"Really?" Hermione asked, suddenly enraptured at the thought.

"Yes," Narcissa replied, "we already knew Astoria, of course, and the marriage was encouraged by her parents, who were old friends of ours. Draco never looked at her the way he looked at you last night."

"I care for him," Hermione said, biting her lip.

"I know," the woman replied, "as does he for you. And I am glad he has found you."

"Thank you," Hermione said, touched. "He is... what I didn't realize I needed."

"He will remain that, if you will let him," Narcissa said. She hesitated, thinking for a long moment. "Lucius had many flaws – and made many mistakes – but he always did what he _thought_ to be his best for his family. Draco has learned that quality from his father."

Hermione didn't quite know what to say to that and so was somewhat relieved when Narcissa spoke again.

"Very well, this is the one, then," she said, gesturing to the dress. "It fits you very well already, it will only need minor adjustments."

Hermione smiled, because it meant she would soon be able to go home and eat dinner and see Draco, though she wouldn't admit any of that to Narcissa.

* * *

"How was shopping?" Draco asked, smirking as he came over while Hermione ate a late dinner.

"It was great," she said, flippantly, " _long_ but I had a nice time, overall."

" _You_ had a nice time dress shopping for nearly three hours?" he asked, a skeptical eyebrow raised. "That must be some dress."

"It's beautiful," she agreed. "I had a nice time with your mother."

Now Draco's eyebrows shot into his hair.

"May I see it?" he asked, glancing around her flat.

"Sure," she said, shrugging, "on Saturday night you can see it all you like."

"On Saturday night I'll peel it off you," he announced with a smirk.

"If you wish," she said, feeling her core clench deliciously at his words. "As long as you don't damage it. It certainly wasn't cheap. Your mother refused to let me pay for it, though."

"Of course she did," Draco said affectedly. "I wouldn't have let you pay for it either."

"I make my own money, Draco," Hermione said, indignant but smiling.

"And you may spend it on things of your choosing," he said, "this ball is not something you chose, much as you agreed to it for my sake."

"I suppose you're right," she said, "though it will be nice to be out in public with you."

Setting her plate aside, she entwined her fingers with his.

"I am inclined to agree with you," he said, head tilted. He paused for a moment, playing absently with her fingers. "How is your research going?"

"Quite well," she nodded, "I made a lot of headway this week. Tomorrow I will be submitting a request to visit the closed ward."

His reaction was as she had expected. He frowned, his brow furrowed, grey eyes staring at her with concern.

"Alone?" he asked, though Hermione knew he probably wanted to say more.

"Yes," she said, "the ward healers are very strict with who visits."

Hermione hadn't been to the Janus Thickey Ward in all of her years as a healer at St. Mungo's, although not due to a lack of compassion or interest. Visitation was mostly limited to family and the healers that worked in there went through extremely specialized training.

Many of the patients in the ward required very specific conditions to prevent episodes.

Hermione was hopeful they would let her sit – or converse – with a couple patients as well as study their medical charts to see if she could find anything specific that may help with her research.

She was nervous, however, that the experience would be more difficult than she was expecting. She almost wanted to request another healer be allowed to visit with her but she didn't want to force that experience on anyone else, let alone ask them.

She would simply do her best to remain clinical and do what needed to be done.

"Just look out for yourself," Draco cautioned gently, as if not wanting to cross a line.

"I will most likely have to arrange a visitation for next week, requests take some time to process," she informed him. "So I don't have to worry about it just yet."

"Well, whenever it is, will you owl me afterwards?" he asked.

Hermione smiled sadly at the expression on his face.

"Of course."

* * *

Saturday came before Hermione was quite good and ready for it. She had the day off work, as did Draco, and was looking forward to a nice day spent together before their evening out at the gala.

Those plans, however, were quickly shut down.

"My mother's arranged to send over her personal stylist," Draco announced as he walked into her flat early that afternoon, looking somewhat flustered. " _Don't_ give me that look, _I_ think you would look beautiful no matter what. It's how these things are done. Just... humour her?"

"Fine," Hermione said, disgruntled. Then she softened. "Have a nice afternoon."

"I will," he murmured, walking over. "Probably take Scorpius for a fly."

"Sounds perfect," she said, smiling. "He'll love that."

"Yes," Draco replied, leaning in for a kiss. "Remember, we leave at six." He kissed her again, longer this time and Hermione pulled him in by the collar, returning the kiss, her tongue grazing his briefly.

"How long until the stylist arrives?" she asked softly and his eyes lit with something she recognized and loved. He opened his mouth to respond as there was a knock on the door.

"That'll be her," Draco said with a tight smile that looked more like grimace. "Later." He walked away with a wink and a smack to her arse, opening the door and excusing himself as the stylist bustled in, overloaded with enthusiasm.

Hermione greeted the woman with as much cheer as she could summon at the thought of being poked and prodded all afternoon.

* * *

As it turned out, Hermione was not only poked and prodded but also tweezed and rubbed and scrubbed and potioned far beyond what she would do on an ordinary day. And Hermione liked to think she paid reasonable care to her physical appearance.

Thankfully she got on well enough with the stylist and was able to find some sort of silver lining from the situation. That and the thought – which was confirmed when the stylist revealed the finished product – that Draco would be blown away.

After the stylist had finished pinning up her hair, she helped Hermione into her dress and finished the look with some stunning jewelry and impossible heels that Narcissa had apparently picked out. Though Hermione wasn't typically one for jewelry, she had to admit the woman had excellent taste. Hermione privately placed a cushioning and stabilizing charm on the heels.

After the stylist had left and Hermione was left on her own until Draco came over, she realized that the day spent with someone else had kept her mind sufficiently occupied in order to prevent the nerves from seeping in. She brewed a cup of tea to keep her mind relaxed.

"Are you nearly ready?" Draco asked, walking into her flat, focused on adjusting his cufflinks.

When he glanced up and saw her, however, he froze. His eyes widened ever so slightly and his lips parted as he gazed at her.

Then he stepped closer, running a hand down her side. If Hermione didn't know any better she would have said he was speechless. Finally he swallowed, clearing his throat.

"You look stunning," he murmured, meeting her eyes. "I like this colour."

"I thought you might," she teased, taking his wrist to secure the cufflink he had abandoned. "You look rather sharp, yourself."

His aristocratic features and lean lines were simply _made_ for formal wear and Hermione found herself staring quite unabashedly at him as well.

"Shall we go?" she asked, finding her throat to be dry. He continued to stare for another moment and Hermione felt a flush creep to her cheeks.

"Yes, of course," he said, smirking. "Please excuse my utter lack of manners."

"You're forgiven," she said, smiling teasingly as she led him to the Apparition point.

* * *

Draco didn't suspect Hermione had ever been to an event quite as formal as this one but all in all, she was doing extremely well. He had always found the high society types to be somewhat akin to vultures and didn't think she had had much experience at dealing with them.

Being a member of the team whose owners were hosting the function, Draco had to enter to a certain amount of fanfare but all he could think about was how bloody proud he was to have her on his arm.

Besides that, the fact that they were together was obviously still a source or gossip and contention in the wizarding world – perhaps people simply didn't believe it to be true – but when they walked out the room fell silent for an uncomfortably long moment before the applause and the whispering began. Hermione had had eyes only for him.

Which was wonderful because he could not stop staring at her in that dress.

Now they were seated at a table, enjoying a delicious meal and Draco was watching as Hermione deliberated quietly over which fork she should be using, clearly attempting not to draw attention to herself. Draco leaned over with a hand to her back and a kiss to her jaw and when he pulled back, he casually nudged her hand to the correct fork. Briefly she gave him a grateful smile.

The seating appeared to be almost entirely random as they were seated at a table with one of Draco's beaters and his pretty society wife, Lizzie and her massively muscular husband who Draco didn't think had taken his hands off her all night, and two random senior ministry types who looked both pleased and discomforted to be there.

They were the type to be still judgmental of Draco based on his past and family name and Draco didn't feel the need to get overly familiar with them. The wife of his beater, Hastings – Draco thought her name was Melinda or Belinda – kept glancing surreptitiously at him and Hermione, as if she couldn't wait to gossip to her friends about it.

At least Lizzie was there and Draco found himself privately glad that it was her and not Cass at his table. Draco had caught sight of the disgruntled yet defeated look on Cassie's face when he and Hermione had walked in and he couldn't help feeling somewhat satisfied, hoping she would drop the attitude. Lizzie's husband, while not someone that Draco would ever purposefully like to cross, seemed good-natured and talkative, and despite his extremely thick Irish accent, largely kept the conversation at the table from stagnating.

Draco hadn't realized there would be _awards_ and when he found himself accepting a trophy for Falcon of the Year, he felt rather affected. He realized halfway through his brief acceptance speech that he was speaking almost exclusively to Hermione across the room.

He smiled as he waved the trophy at the end and walked back to his seat, uncomfortable yet flattered to be receiving an award. There was a smattering of polite applause as well as some fairly rowdy cheering from one specific table – clearly his keeper and the other beater had been into the strong elf-made wine and he shot them a grin.

He handed the trophy to Hermione as he resumed his seat, kissing her on the cheek.

"Congratulations," she murmured, smiling as she observed the award and placed it on the table in front of him in a position of prominence. "You deserve it."

"Thanks," he responded, tilting his head to her. He almost couldn't reconcile that she had hated Quidditch before they had re-connected. He squeezed her thigh under the table, appreciative of her support.

There were a number of other speeches following dinner; the Falcons' owners, Coach Carrington, some of the event's most generous benefactors and some of the financial recipients, including the St. Mungo's organizers.

While Draco tried to show interest, knowing people were watching him closely, he found himself slipping to distraction partway through the speeches.

Hermione was leaned in, listening attentively, one of her hands resting on his thigh under the table though he couldn't tell how interested she truly was. Until the hand on his leg started to shift upwards, teasingly and Draco caught her wrist as he felt his breath catch in his throat. She glanced at him, briefly, innocently.

Draco rolled his eyes, smirked at her even as she turned back to the speaker and he placed her hand back down towards his knee.

He had almost started to believe it was truly unintentional until, a few minutes later, her hand started to move up again, her fingers tracing lightly along his inner thigh. He fought back a groan as he felt himself begin to grow hard, as her touch was always so apt to do.

"You're playing with fire," he breathed in her ear, leaning in and she gave him that same delectably innocent look.

"Not a clue what you mean," she whispered back at him, her eyes wide, a faint smile on her lips.

Then she grabbed him fully, through his trousers and Draco nearly threw his seat back as he grabbed hold of her wrist once more, holding her hand away though he would much rather let her carry on.

Somehow, that didn't seem the best plan in a room full of high society.

A few people nearby had glanced over at his sudden movement and Draco forced a casual expression to his features.

"Save it," he hissed once they had looked away, meeting Hermione's amused gaze. " _Please_ for the love of Merlin, save it for later."

"As you wish," she responded lightly, withdrawing her hand and placing it delicately in her own lap instead.

Draco instantly and frustratingly felt the loss of heat from her hand on his leg.

Following the speeches, there was to be a dance and Hermione carefully placed his award into that ubiquitous beaded bag of hers, though she had transfigured it into an elegant clutch for the occasion.

"You should know I'm not much of a dancer," Hermione whispered in his ear as he led her to the dance floor where he and his teammates were to begin the dance.

"I am," he responded honestly, "just follow my lead."

He took her hand and when the music began, pulled her tightly towards him, deeply inhaling the intoxicating scent she was wearing. Grapefruit – he thought, and something else. Something bright and fruity and fresh. He rather thought it suited her.

He tilted his head as he spun her, leading her gracefully. He could dance like this in his sleep.

"You're wearing perfume," he commented offhandedly. He didn't think she ordinarily did. "It's lovely."

"Thank you," she said, flushing lightly, "I usually don't for work and otherwise I tend to forget."

Draco spun her, dipped her, guided her easily and she quickly caught on. He found it all too easy to get caught up in the experience, her in his arms and the way she fit so naturally against him.

Some time later, Draco led her from the dance floor, both of them fatigued and thirsty.

"Miss Granger!" someone called from behind them and Draco turned, noticing as Hermione's eyes narrowed instantly. The woman seemed vaguely familiar but Hermione just glared, silent, even as the blonde woman smiled widely.

"It is wonderful to see you again, after all these years," the woman went on extravagantly. Draco noticed she was carrying a quill and notebook and instantly determined her to be a reporter.

"I cannot say the same about you, I'm afraid, Rita," Hermione bit out.

Rita Skeeter, Draco recalled. He remembered now that he had seen her at Hogwarts during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He thought he had probably told her some lies about Potter like the insolent teenager he had been. He had probably also seen her at some point in his career but wasn't certain.

"How about a few questions, you two?" the woman went on, as if ignoring Hermione's open hostility.

"I think not," Draco cut in, glancing at the brunette. "We have no interest in making your gossip page."

He placed a hand to Hermione's back, about to lead her away when the woman rushed in front of them, flashing her teeth.

"It must be difficult, I would imagine, entering into _such_ a controversial relationship," Rita said, attempting to bait an answer out of them. "With the majority of the wizarding world opposed simply on principle. I wonder how the experience has been? Hermione Granger, golden sweetheart and former lover of Harry Potter with _Draco Malfoy_ , Death Eater turned –"

"Bugger off, Rita," Draco ground through his teeth. He glanced curiously at Hermione and she rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

"Rita Skeeter," Hermione said, still leveling the woman with a death glare that would have intimidated Draco, "you will not write one bloody article about us, do you understand? If I find you to be profiting in _any_ way, shape or form with regards to me or my boyfriend, I will _not_ hesitate to reveal my hand. Do you understand me?"

Rita didn't immediately speak though her smile faltered. Draco fought to hold back a smirk seeing Hermione so riled up and _not_ being on the receiving end of it. Finally Rita cleared her throat, adjusting her glasses.

"One photo won't hurt," she said, still smiling and out of nowhere a photographer nearby snapped a shot of them.

Hermione raised a finger threateningly, her lips pressed together. She looked torn.

"Only because you _will_ send me a copy of that photo," she hissed.

"Of course," Rita waved a hand flippantly, walking off.

"Did something actually go on between you and Potter?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow as they carried on towards the bar.

"Of course not," Hermione said, shaking her head. "Rita always liked to make things up. Anything for a bit of publicity. If I recall it was _you_ and your cronies feeding her false information."

She gave him an mockingly unimpressed glance. He simply shrugged.

"We weren't sure that wasn't at least somewhat true, to be honest," Draco said, smirking. "The bit about you and Potter. Until you went to the Yule Ball with Krum, of course."

Draco paused, grinning. Hermione eyed him suspiciously.

"I've only just realized, you _do_ have a thing for Quidditch players," he said, clutching his heart, "I'm hurt. All this time I thought it wasn't about my career."

"Right, because that night at the club when I asked you what you did, that was all a front," she teased. "I actually arranged the whole thing."

" _Ha ha_ ," he said sarcastically. "You're so clever I wouldn't be surprised."

Draco ordered them each a firewhisky and as he turned back to hand hers to her, he paused. She was still smiling peacefully and there was a flush to her cheeks from dancing and she was staring at him with those expressive brown eyes.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, meeting her eyes as she took the drink. The flush deepened and she took a quick sip. He wrapped an arm around her back, stepping closer and rubbing the bare skin of her back and shoulders.

"And you look extremely handsome," she said softly, playing with his collar with her free hand.

Draco leaned in, grateful that they were away from the main party, pressing his lips to hers. She tasted like firewhisky and he twisted his hand to the back of her neck, being careful not to damage her hairdo.

Hermione pulled back after a moment, cognizant as ever of where they were though Draco found himself raring to go. Briefly he wished he could drag her off somewhere but oh, how much sweeter if would be to wait. Besides, she looked far too much the part of a lady for that.

"Come on, I'll introduce you to the rest of the team," Draco said, leading her with a hand to her back.

"I'd like that," she responded, smiling.

But as they turned to walk back towards the main party, Draco caught an obnoxious flash of ginger and had to blink twice to be sure what he was seeing.

"Hermione, what the fuck?" It was Weasley.

Beside him Hermione flinched but didn't move away.

"Ron, what are you doing here?" she asked, sounding tired.

"Obviously they need tighter security at the door," Draco commented offhand earning a glare from the other man.

"I didn't believe you were honestly with him," Weasley stated. Draco rolled his eyes. He didn't mind Potter, anymore, he supposed, but he hoped Hermione would never ask him to befriend Weasley. It honestly baffled Draco how Hermione had put up with him for so long.

"Yes I am, Ron," she responded. "Haven't we moved past this already?"

"We _had_ , you and I," Weasley said, "until you took up with that wanker."

Draco rose an eyebrow. _Wanker_. His hand instinctively twitched toward his wand, but he refrained. He suspected this wasn't going anywhere good.

"Draco is a part of my life now, Ron," Hermione said, crossing her arms over her chest. Weasley opened his mouth to speak again.

"Look, Weasley," Draco said, interjecting, "I see this going one of two ways. Either you turn around, walk away and leave, with a mature understanding that Hermione is a grown witch and able to make her own decisions."

Weasley started to interrupt but Draco held up a finger, silencing him with a look.

" _Or_ ," he continued, straightening up, "you can cause a scene. I'm willing to accept a scene, but I know that Hermione wouldn't want that. And listen closely, Weasley. This room is crawling with reporters. Furthermore, I have four fully capable male teammates here who will readily have my back in a physical altercation, not to mention _all_ of my coaches being present. So I would _really_ consider what the aim is here before you do something stupid."

Weasley glanced around, as if just realizing that what Draco said was true. Hermione was giving Draco a look he didn't want to process just yet.

"I don't know that I can accept this," the redhead finally said. Draco rolled his eyes, about to say that it wasn't his decision to make, when Hermione spoke.

"Ron, if you think you need to defend my honour, you don't," she said, her voice firm, "and I'm sorry to say that it isn't for you to accept or not. You made your decision, months ago. This is _my_ decision."

Draco's brow furrowed as his pulse skipped at her defense of him. Her declaration that _he_ was her choice. Suddenly he wasn't sure how this had happened, how he had found someone like her. He wanted to grab her and wave her around for everyone to see but instead he simply pressed a kiss to her temple.

"This is crazy," Weasley said, shaking his head. He gave Draco a last glare before leaving.

Draco watched Hermione for a moment as she watched him go, frowning. He was concerned she perhaps regretted what she had said. But she simply turned into him, a hand on his chest and he pulled her closer into an embrace, breathing in her scent again.

When she pulled back she smiled at him.

"Let's go meet your team," she said.

* * *

By the time the evening drew to a close, Hermione was thoroughly danced out; her feet were sore even despite the charms she had placed on the tall heels Narcissa had given her. She was conversed out; Draco had introduced her to the rest of his team she didn't yet know as well as the coaches and training staff.

More than that, she was beyond ready for Draco to peel her from her dress, as he had so eloquently put it on Thursday night. If the looks he had been giving her were anything to go by, he was thinking the same.

After they Apparated from the gala and went home, Hermione found herself in Draco's flat, carefully unpinning her elaborate hairdo at the vanity in his loo. She let the soft, tamed curls tumble over her shoulders as Draco walked up behind her, jacket off and tie untied and she met his darkened gaze in the mirror.

She reached to the back of her neck to remove the clasp of the brilliant, sparkling necklace his mother had gifted her when he caught her fingers, stopping her.

"Leave it," he murmured, dropping her hand. He swept her hair to one shoulder, leaning in to press kisses down her exposed throat, along her collarbone. He glanced up as he did so, meeting her eyes once more and to Hermione it felt extremely sensual. She felt her heart begin to race and a flush crept to her chest and face as her head dropped to the side and he continued working her sensitive flesh.

"Draco," she whispered, breath hitching as he bit down on her shoulder.

"Yes?" he drawled, his hands tracing her arms, drawing goosebumps. They went to her back and he began tantalizingly unzipping the dress, his hands slipping inside to drift to her hips as he pushed the dress from her, helping her to step out of it. Draco smirked as he carefully carried the dress to his closet and placed it on a hanger. Hermione felt a smile slip to her features as he turned back to her.

"I like you like this," he said, observing the black lace lingerie she was left in.

He ran his hands along her sides, his fingertips dancing subtly along her bare skin, from her thighs, to her shoulders and a shiver crept down her spine.

Draco took a step back, removing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, slowly, staring at her all the while. Hermione fought not to squirm under his heated gaze. She felt very much like his prey and got the distinct impression he meant to play with his food before eating it.

He draped his shirt over the back of a chair, walking behind her, pressing his bare chest to her back. Hermione could feel his awareness of her pressed up against her and she expelled a caught breath as his hands traced her stomach, stopping on her breasts with a squeeze.

"Lie down, please," he said softly, amending, "on your knees."

Hermione did as he asked and he casually adjusted her, her chest to the bed and her bum in the air. She let out a gasp and her eyes fluttered shut as his hand met her arse, just enough to sting, then rubbing it softly, reverently, following with the other cheek. He dragged her knickers down, nudging her to lift her knees, one by one and tossed them to the floor.

Hermione felt herself holding her breath as she waited, unable to see what he was doing until she heard the rustling of presumably the rest of his clothes being removed.

Then he was on the bed, behind her, dropping kisses to the base of her spine, traveling up her back as she felt the solid length of him, teasing her damp flesh.

He plunged into her without pretense and Hermione instinctively moved toward him as he sunk into her, his breath hot on her neck as he bent over her, and he moved, teasingly, shallowly, before finally thrusting deeply, building a rhythm between them.

Draco released the clasp of her bra, tossing it aside as he grasped a breast, kissing her neck and shoulder as he gained momentum.

In one swift move, Draco withdrew from her, flipped her over and was back inside, finally crushing her lips with his as he pushed Hermione toward that delirious peak. She groaned and tossed her head back, arching towards him as he cursed, biting down on her lower lip, pushing into her with greater urgency and she met him equally, her mind spinning off into nothing.

Hermione felt his name slip her lips as a whimper as she broke, the strength of her orgasm crashing over her and her body clenching down on him as he came, breathing her name.

It might have been minutes, Hermione wasn't sure, before he withdrew from her, casting a _Scourgify_ over them both.

Draco pulled her in, drawing the covers over them both and Hermione felt herself slipping into sleep, tangled with him, within moments.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note:** Thanks, as always, for the love on this story. I'm a bit nervous for this one and I'd love to hear your thoughts.

If I have any readers affected by hurricanes or in the path of Irma, my heart is with you and please be safe.

 **Please note:** There may be some non-graphic triggers in this chapter with regards to sanity and mental health. If you are someone affected by these sorts of issues, please tread carefully.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

It was Thursday by the time Hermione heard back from the healers of the Janus Thickey Ward. She had been granted special permission to visit the ward Friday afternoon but would be kept under close supervision so as not to unnecessarily upset the patients.

As Hermione read the scroll, it took a moment for her to realize she was shaking.

While she had determined this would be an essential component to her research and she was at a bit of a standstill moving forward, the thought of going into the closed ward made her extremely nervous. She suspected a part of her hesitation was how close to home it hit. If things hadn't gone as they had, all those years ago, would Bellatrix have made her a permanent resident of the ward?

The Lestranges had been responsible for Frank and Alice Longbottom, among others. Hermione wondered if she would see them and what sort of condition they might be in. Idly she found herself curious if Neville visited them.

The thought that she would be visiting the ward tomorrow, Friday, was startling. The past week had flown past in a blur of healing and research and working on the potion and nearly ripping her hair out trying to find answers.

Surprisingly, Rita Skeeter had been true to her word and had not published any slanderous articles about her and Draco with the exception of the photo of the two of them inserted into a brief write-up on the Falcons' Gala, including a reference to the fact that they had been in attendance together.

She suspected Rita had rather painfully refrained from writing the article Hermione _knew_ she had wanted to write. The woman had, as Hermione requested, sent Hermione a copy of the photo.

Hermione had transfigured an old inkwell into a frame for the photo and had found herself staring at it often. She was in Draco's arms, looking briefly irate before she settled into Draco, glancing up at him as he gazed at her, his expression wearing a relaxed smirk.

She rather thought it was a nice moment between them. She picked up the photo once more, running her fingertips along the frame, a smile floating to her lips.

Her shift was nearly up and for once Hermione wasn't intending to stay late. Draco was playing in Falmouth and he had given her a ticket. She would be a bit late but would be able to catch most of his game. She was looking forward to it as she hadn't seen him play since she and Mandy had gone to his match against Kenmare.

That was back when she still wondered if he could ever see them as more. It felt like it had been so much longer. She glanced at the photo of them one last time before setting it on her desk and gathering her things.

Quickly changing into spare clothes she had brought with her to St. Mungo's, Hermione Apparated to Falmouth.

* * *

The Falcons were playing Pride of Portree and the match was underway by the time Hermione arrived. Her seat was in the Falcons' box again and this time Hermione recognized some of Draco's teammates' wives and Lizzie's muscular husband, politely greeting them as she took her seat.

As always, Hermione found herself astonished at the ease and fluidity with which he flew, and though she accepted her own bias, she quite thought he was the best flier on the team and felt a surge of pride.

She nearly laughed at the thought that she had now attended multiple Quidditch games and was actually considering certain aspects of the game. Apparently, it seemed, Draco would make a Quidditch fan of her yet.

Hermione found herself in conversation with Melinda Hastings, the wife of the beater that had been seated at their table at the gala, who filled Hermione in on an equal mixture of Quidditch mechanics and internal team gossip.

"It's good Draco has someone now," Melinda was saying, "and it's about time Cassie realizes he isn't interested in her."

"What?" Hermione asked sharply, instantly looking away from the play she had been following.

"Cassie," Melinda said, nodding towards the blonde chaser in possession of the Quaffle. She blanched at Hermione's expression. "You didn't know."

"No," Hermione said, chewing her lip, "I didn't."

"Well, it was a long time ago," Melinda said, tossing her hair. "And I don't think it lasted very long, but Cassie never really let it go. I wouldn't worry too much about it."

"Right," Hermione offered with a tight smile, "I'm not worried."

Any further discussion on the matter was cut short as the Falcons' seeker caught the Snitch, sending the stadium into an uproar as the team flew into victory formation.

Hermione made her way to the team's quarters, meeting up with Draco who looked tired but his face lit up upon seeing her.

"You made it," he murmured, walking over and pressing his lips to hers. "I wasn't sure."

"I caught most of it," she said, smiling in return. "Congratulations."

Hermione couldn't help but glance over at Cassie, catching the disgruntled look on the other woman's face. She was suddenly reminded of the way Cassie had acted at the World Cup and Hermione was surprised she hadn't caught it before.

"Thanks," Draco said, oblivious. "Let's go home, I'm absolutely knackered."

Hermione allowed Draco to lead her to the Apparition point and they went into his flat. Draco collapsed almost instantly on the couch, looking deep in thought.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, head tilted. He glanced over, as if surprised to see her there.

"Just tired," he said, brow furrowed.

"Okay," Hermione said, moving closer to him and he reached an arm around her shoulders. "So what happened with you and Cassie?" She meant to ask in a joking manner but wasn't sure whether that was properly conveyed or not. Draco sighed heavily, glancing at her.

"One drunken night, two years ago that I've long wished I could take back," he said, "why do you ask?"

"Just curious," Hermione said, shrugging.

"She is nothing more than a teammate," he said, rather sharply. "Hermione, I appreciate you making friends at my games but I would prefer it if you talk to me if you have concerns, rather than listening to those women and their gossip."

"I didn't mean anything by it," Hermione said, taken aback. She suddenly wished she hadn't mentioned it. "And it wasn't a concern, I was only curious."

"Okay," Draco said, re-arranging his arm around her. His brow was furrowed and he still looked distracted.

"Draco, are you sure everything's alright?" she asked, softly. He turned to her and his expression softened.

"No," he admitted. "And I shouldn't take it out on you. I'm sorry. I received some unsettling news today before the match."

"What is it?" she asked, meeting his eyes.

"My contract is nearly up," he said with a sigh, "and I've just found out another team has made an offer. A very high one."

"Wouldn't that be a good thing?" Hermione asked.

"I would prefer it to be Falmouth," he said, "and they are not certain whether they can match it."

"But you're their star chaser," Hermione said, confused.

"Falmouth is second in the league only to Kenmare," he said quietly. "I mean to talk to the Falcons management; I would accept a lower offer to stay where I am but am not sure if they will make one or not. I have no interest in playing for Kenmare."

"Kenmare?" Hermione asked, thinking for a moment when she realized. "Ireland?"

"Ireland," Draco affirmed. "Frequent international travel presents a host of problems, as I'm sure you know."

"So you would have to move," Hermione said, swallowing heavily.

"I'm not moving," he said casually, though Hermione heard the conflict in his voice. "Scorpius is here, as are you." He glanced sidelong at her.

"Maybe other teams will also make an offer?" she asked.

"Hard to say," he admitted, "I certainly hope so. I'm not ready to give up playing just yet."

"No," she agreed, leaning in to cuddle into his chest. "I don't imagine you are."

"I'll just have to wait it out," he said, pressing a kiss to her hair. "Which, admittedly, is not one of my strengths."

There was a long silence which felt heavy on the air between them.

"I have to go into the closed ward tomorrow," Hermione finally said, not lifting her face from his chest. "I'm nervous."

"Merlin, Hermione," he said, wrapping his arms tighter around her. "You should have said earlier."

"I'm starting to think you were right," she admitted, "and that I have underestimated this. The thought of going in there, and seeing all those patients..."

She allowed the sentence to trail off, knowing he understood full well what she intended to say.

"You are one of the strongest people I know," he commented. "You can do it. I know you can be clinical. You have to separate yourself from it. Compartmentalize."

"Clinical," she repeated, "I can do that."

"And if it gets to you," he said, hesitating, "just know it isn't you. What happened to you was terrible, Hermione, but it isn't you in there and now you have the power to help them. To bring something positive out of that awful experience. _You_ can do that. And... please remember that I'm here."

"Right," she said, burrowing further into him as a flood of emotion at his words washed over her. His words could give her strength, she knew. They had to, because she needed to do this. "Thank you. For being here."

"Always," he murmured.

* * *

Hermione took several deep breaths as she stood at the threshold of the Janus Thickey Ward the following afternoon. She had arranged for her visit to be at the end of the day.

She tried to draw strength from Draco's words of the night before. That no matter what she found on the other side of that door, it was within her power to help and she was actively doing so.

Besides, she was a Gryffindor! She had faced some of the greatest terrors of the wizarding world as a teenager and _this_ wouldn't stop her. She had seen great evils that she had been unable to help and this was different.

Steeling her nerves, she knocked softly on the ward doors, awaiting her healer escort.

"Healer Granger," a woman said sharply as she opened the door almost instantly. "I'm Healer Scott. You're exactly on time. Follow me."

Healer Scott led Hermione to an office where she gave her a pamphlet of protocol to adhere to whilst within the closed ward.

"Since you may be working with us for an undetermined length of time, I would ask that you please sign this form," the woman said brusquely.

Hermione perused the form briefly, noting it clarified the rules she had found in the pamphlet. She signed the form, wondering just how long they were expecting her to be working within the ward.

"Now," Healer Scott said, leaning over Hermione – she found the woman to be rather intimidating – as she was seated at a desk, "what exactly are you hoping to do today?"

"I mean to observe some of the patients; read their files, watch their mannerisms," Hermione said. "Speak with them, if possible."

"Fair enough," Healer Scott said, head tilted. "We can arrange that. I have some ideas. Follow me."

No matter what Hermione had been expecting, it didn't prepare her for the experience of walking into the ward. Some patients were in a shared room, while others had private rooms. Healers bustled around a central common area in various disheveled states.

For Hermione, who was used to working with individual patients in controlled, quiet environments, this felt like chaos. Patients were hollering, they were sobbing, some were in a state of lucid conversation – though Hermione wasn't certain how much of it was relevant.

"It takes some time to adjust," Healer Scott said, presumably noting Hermione's wide-eyed expression. It was the first hint of softness the woman had shown. "We believe you're in a noble pursuit and will do what we can to accommodate your research. These patients... they deserve better."

Hermione nodded fervently, not quite trusting herself to speak.

"Take a seat, Frank," Healer Scott said, walking past a man who seemed to be distractedly making his way toward a round table where a number of patients were having tea.

"Is that.. Frank Longbottom?" Hermione asked, nervous of the answer.

"Yes," Scott said, glancing curiously at Hermione.

"I went to Hogwarts with his son, Neville," Hermione said quietly.

"Ah, yes," the woman said, softly, "we're all quite fond of Neville."

Hermione fell into silence once more, observing as much as she could about the state of the ward. It was clear that there were too many patients for the number of healers. It was also abundantly clear that each patient was affected very differently from the next.

"Are all of the patients here victims of the Cruciatus Curse?" Hermione asked. She was finding that most of the questions she meant to ask she didn't particularly want the answers to.

"Not all, but most," Healer Scott supplied. "Maybe three-quarters. Healer McTavish informed me you have had your own experiences with the Cruciatus."

"Yes, I have," Hermione said, brow furrowing. "Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Ward protocol, you'll understand, to know as much as possible," Scott said apologetically. "And I am also informed you have made some discoveries already. I am very pleased to hear this and I wish you the best in your research."

"Thank you," Hermione said politely. Her brain was still in a state of over-stimulation.

"This is where we keep individual patient records," Scott said, leading her into a quieter file room. "I will allow you access to these records if you'll consent to a trace so we know which patients you are observing. Each patient's file will inform you of any particular information you'll need to know about them, you see."

"That's fine," Hermione said distractedly, marveling at the sheer number of files.

Healer Scott drew one particular file, handing it to Hermione.

"I'm going to introduce you to Kenneth."

* * *

Kenneth, as it turned out, had been a student of Hogwarts during the brief tenure of Amycus and Alecto Carrow as professors and disciplinarians. Kenneth Baker had been a bright, promising fifth year Ravenclaw student when he had been caught out of bed after hours, heading back to the common room after a long night in the library.

He had had the misfortune of running straight into the Carrows – on a bad day. Healer Scott hadn't needed to elaborate.

Hermione's eyes stung almost instantly with unshed tears. This was one of her biggest fears – that there would be patients here who had been irreparably damaged during that time when she, Harry and Ron had been away from Hogwarts. Would they have been able to help students like Kenneth had they been there?

Remembering Draco's advice, Hermione pushed back the swell of emotion. She had to be clinical. She would need to put her thickest skin on if she was to help these patients, no matter how heartbreaking or tragic.

She read through Kenneth's file in its entirety. He had been sent to St. Mungo's after some students had found him unconscious in the hallway and there he remained, having been unable to return to Hogwarts to complete his education.

There was a comprehensive history, showing Kenneth's condition worsening progressively. Symptomatically, he was all over the place. Nightmares, hallucinations, speaking to family members as if they were present, emotional breaks.

Hermione shook her head, exhaling heavily as she looked back to Healer Scott.

"May I meet him?" she asked softly.

"Yes," Healer Scott acquiesced. "The reason you are going to meet Kenneth, in particular, is because we are continually in close contact with his family. His parents... they have never given up hope. They believe that someday, Kenneth will improve and they have willingly signed off on research or experimental procedures which may assist in that endeavour. This in the hopes that more information may help all of the patients of the ward."

"Blindly?" Hermione asked, bewildered. She couldn't imagine being put in a position such as that.

"Not blindly, no, they will have the ultimate say moving forward with any procedures or other methodology, but we have already spoken to them about your research and they have allowed you to work with Kenneth," Healer Scott explained. "Please prepare yourself, Healer Granger. Kenneth is remarkably lucid some days but his condition can change rapidly."

"Okay," Hermione said, nodding. Her palms felt suddenly sweaty, her body shaking slightly. "Let's go meet him."

Healer Scott led Hermione down another hallway in the labyrinthine ward. She stopped outside of a private room with a small metal placard that read ' _K. Baker_ ' affixed to the door.

"Oh, and he does better when we don't refer to ourselves as healers," Healer Scott informed her.

Scott knocked gently on the door before pushing it open. Hermione timidly followed her into the room.

"Kenneth, hello, it's Mary," Healer Scott said, smiling at the young man. "I've brought a friend with me today, her name is Hermione Granger."

"Hello Mary, hello Hermione," Kenneth responded and Hermione was shocked, not quite knowing what she was expecting. Kenneth was sitting at a small, round table beside a bed, sipping a cup of tea. He was looking around the room serenely when he caught sight of them and offered a polite smile.

Kenneth was an attractive young man, with thick brown hair, sharp features and bright blue eyes which looked rather unfocused. His hands shook slightly as he drank his tea.

"Hello Kenneth, it's wonderful to meet you," Hermione said, taking a step further into the room at Healer Scott's nod of encouragement.

"Hermione Granger was a war hero," Kenneth informed the room at large. "She was Harry Potter's best friend."

"That's me, Kenneth," Hermione said, taking a step closer. "May I join you?"

"You may," he said, nodding. He quirked an eyebrow as she took a seat at his table. "You'll have to brew a fresh pot, I'm afraid I've drank it all."

Hermione glanced sidelong at the nearly full, fresh pot of tea in front of her.

"I'm fine, thank you," she replied. She glanced at Healer Scott who nodded once more.

"Are you the _real_ Hermione Granger?" Kenneth asked, suddenly turning those blue eyes on her. "I remember Hermione Granger from Hogwarts. She was extremely clever."

"Yes, that's me," she said again. "I'm friends with Harry Potter, and with Ron Weasley."

"Have you seen my parents?" he asked, and Hermione wasn't sure whether he was changing the subject altogether.

"I haven't, no," she said, glancing nervously to Healer Scott, who walked over and joined her at Kenneth's table.

"We spoke to them last week, Kenneth," Healer Scott informed him.

"Are they alright?" he asked, sharply. "Are they coming to visit soon?"

"Next week," Scott informed him. "They are coming to see you on Tuesday."

"Are they _alright_?" Kenneth asked again. "I haven't heard from them!"

Kenneth suddenly dropped his tea cup, spilling the remains on the table as he grasped his face, eyes wide. He let out a soft whimper as Healer Scott quickly vanished the mess of tea and ceramic.

"I haven't heard from them," he moaned, digging his fingers aggressively into his hair. "What's happened to them?"

And he was whispering to himself, questions about his parents as he stood, anxiously, from his seat, pushing the table aside frantically, pacing the room, the whimper growing into a frustrated sort of keening and Healer Scott gestured to the door as an observing healer rushed in. Hermione jumped to the side, a hand flying to her mouth as the healer was able to subdue Kenneth into his bed, injecting him with a draught and he drifted off almost instantly.

Healer Scott led Hermione into the corridor as Hermione felt her heart racing, thumping eagerly against her chest at the sudden turn of events.

"It's always something different," Healer Scott began without preface. "Today his parents, on Monday it was the rain. Last week, Quidditch scores. We have to subdue him because he has injured himself and others in the past, unintentionally of course."

"But what triggered the event?" Hermione asked, confused, shaking her head. "It seemed extremely sudden."

"That is usually the case," Healer Scott said, nodding. "He can go from pleasantly conversational to an extreme panic within moments, often with no obvious trigger."

Hermione nodded, not trusting herself to speak, her heart still pounding with adrenaline and sadness. She felt a deep, indescribable pain at seeing the condition of the young man.

"May I make a copy of his file?" Hermione asked, her head starting to spin.

"Yes," Healer Scott said, observing Hermione for a moment. "Perhaps that's best. Go through it, and if you have more questions we can meet again next week."

"Thank you," Hermione said, attempting to force a smile. The woman smiled in return, brow furrowed, a smile of concern.

"Are you alright, Healer Granger?" Healer Scott asked and Hermione heard her from far away. "It can be a lot, at first."

"I'm fine," she assured the woman, feeling panic rise in her chest. "Thank you."

As Hermione walked away, taking a shaky breath, she felt the anxiety clutch at her, her heart rate escalating rapidly. She paced quickly to her office, doing her best not to run and when she arrived she collapsed at her desk, brow furrowed with despair as she thought of Kenneth and she thought of Frank Longbottom and Neville and though she did her best to push back the old emotions she felt them, surely, coming to the forefront.

The panic took her, grasping hold of her heart and she felt her rational mind slip as if from her fingers and then she was sobbing, Kenneth's file dropping to the floor, as she fell forward to her desk, burying her face in her arms.

The old fear, the old anxiety, the sheer dread and the terror pushed at her and Hermione could scarcely breathe or see through the tears and she knew, in a moment that this was what Draco and McTavish and everyone had tried to warn her of but all she could see was Bellatrix and that dark room those years ago and poor, sweet Kenneth who had been so young, who hadn't deserved any of it.

She shook, her body wracked with sobs as she cried her eyes dry of moisture and even then, she had no energy to stand or to conjure any other thoughts but of Kenneth and those lost souls in the closed ward and Hermione felt so hopeless because her research felt so far off and what could she _possibly_ do to help?

* * *

That was how Draco found her, some time later, collapsed on her desk and semi-catatonic.

"Hermione," he murmured under his breath, tensing at the sight of her, "my girl."

He leaned over her desk, lifting her face and she stared at him, eyes red and brows furrowed, looking utterly broken. He lifted her, gently, shaking his head as he carried her to the Apparition point, grateful the halls were quiet. She burrowed into his chest, sniffling as he Apparated them home and carried her into his flat.

Draco wanted to curse whoever had thought it wise to let her pursue this research and to put herself into that ward but it would have to wait, though he knew it was pointless, even as he knew, ultimately, how dedicated she was.

He knew she still had nightmares, sometimes. He knew she was still more affected by the things that had happened to her during the war than she let on, even to him. It broke his heart to see her like this.

He stripped her from her healers' robes, leaving her in her shirt and jeans, and tucked her under the covers, laying alongside her and wrapping his arms around her, holding her tightly. She tucked her face into him, her breathing normalizing for a few moments before she looked up at him.

"Draco," she murmured, "hi."

"Hi," he returned, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You're okay." He ran a hand up and down her spine.

"Thank you," she said, her eyes closed. "I don't know what came over me."

"I do," Draco said lightly, "and I think you do, too. Hermione, I know how much this research means to you, but I _need_ to know you're looking out for yourself." He closed his eyes, briefly. "I need to know you're okay."

"I'm okay," she said and Draco didn't believe her. She twisted her mouth, as if realizing she probably didn't seem okay and she sighed. "Draco, it was worse than I had expected."

His brow furrowed as he gazed at her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, at a loss as to what he could do for her.

"I can't," she said, biting her lower lip. "Patient confidentiality."

"You can tell me about Hermione," he said. He pressed his lips to hers. "I want to hear about Hermione."

"Hermione was doing alright," she began after a moments' hesitation. "Hermione was introduced to a patient who had been caught during the Carrows' time at Hogwarts." Draco felt a shudder as he remembered those times.

"Hermione was talking to the patient who very suddenly was worse and she left the ward and was caught with despair and hopelessness and awful memories," she said, closing her eyes. She drew a rattling breath in. "Hermione is all the more convicted that she _must_ find something to help these patients but doesn't know what to do."

Draco felt his heart sink as he stared at her.

"Draco needs Hermione to think of herself, too," he said, closing his eyes. "Hermione needs to make sure she isn't pushing herself too far. Draco cares too much for Hermione to lose her or to see her hurt." He met her gaze again.

"Hermione cares an awful lot for Draco, as well," she said, softly. "She appreciates his support. Hermione suspects she might be –"

"Draco loves Hermione," he blurted, cutting her off. He stared at her as he processed the words that had tumbled from his own mouth, finding them to be true. Her mouth fell open in surprise. Draco lifted a hand, running it along her jaw. "I'm in love with you."

"I'm in love with you, too," Hermione whispered. "Draco –"

But he didn't hear what she had to say because he had kissed her, crushing his lips to hers, grasping her and pulling her closer before he remembered she was in a poor state.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, suddenly feeling compelled to take care of her, not knowing what else he could do. "Of course you're hungry, come, I'll make you something. Would you like to take a shower?"

"A shower might be nice," she said, rising from his bed and Draco followed. She watched him for a moment, a trace of a smile crossing her features.

Hermione walked towards him, wrapping her arms around his waist and he pulled her in, his arms going around her shoulders.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For being here with me."

"Of course," he responded. He adjusted his grasp, pulling her closer, kissed the top of her head. "I've never been in love with anyone. Your Gryffindor is rubbing off on me."

"Good," she murmured, smiling up at him. "I'm going to shower and then we can eat, okay?"

"Okay." And he watched as she left the room, his heart pulsing a nervous, terrified, overjoyed cadence and he didn't know if this was normal but he knew he had to protect her and also support her simultaneously and Draco didn't know if he would be any good at any of that.

But he knew, for her, he would try his best.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the feedback on the last chapter! It's been a sad week here and all of your thoughts on this fic have been wonderful. Just a quick update: I've officially caught up to pre-written content but I do at least have a skeleton outline of the events that are yet to occur in the remaining chapters of this fic (perhaps 5-ish). I do still hope to update weekly or as close as possible.

A special thanks to LaBelladone x for helping me to keep my head on straight moving forward with this fic. xo

Also, there is an homage in this chapter to one of my all-time favourite Dramione fics from around ten years ago. Wonder if anyone catches it. Please enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

It was Scorpius' fifth birthday that Saturday, and Hermione found it a nice distraction from the thoughts of her less-than-pleasant visit to the closed ward on Friday and how she might possibly be able to make any sense of her research having seen first hand what she was up against.

His birthday party was being held on the grounds of Nott Estates and when Draco Apparated the two of them over, her eyes went wide. The grounds had been decorated extravagantly – the theme of his party was Quidditch – and there seemed to be dozens of people in attendance.

Hermione knew quite a few – Astoria, Theo and Daphne of course, as well as Narcissa, Andromeda and Teddy. She also noticed Blaise Zabini and Tracey Davis from their year in Slytherin. An older couple Hermione presumed to be Astoria's parents were following Scorpius as he ran around the yard showing them the bewitched brooms and Quaffles flying around.

"Dad! Hermione!" Scorpius shouted as he noticed they had arrived, rushing over and throwing himself at Draco. Hermione was surprised but touched as he then wrapped himself around her legs, hugging her.

"Happy birthday, Scorpius," she said, bending to give him a proper hug. "You're five already! Wow!"

"Yes, five!" he said proudly, holding up one open hand, spread wide. "Only six more years until I can go to Hogwarts and play Quidditch for Slytherin!"

Hermione bit her lip to keep from laughing. Scorpius aspired so dearly to be just like Draco and it was heart-warming.

"I didn't play for Slytherin until my second year, remember?" Draco said, crouching down. "And you can be a great Quidditch player no matter which house you end up in."

"But _you_ were in Slytherin," Scorpius protested. He turned to Hermione. "Which house were you in, Hermione?"

"I was in Gryffindor," she said and Scorpius frowned.

"I thought Slytherins and Gryffindors weren't friends," he commented. Hermione smiled at Draco while he laughed.

"We weren't friends _at_ Hogwarts," Draco said, "but that doesn't mean you can't be friends with kids from the other houses."

Hermione gave his hand a squeeze, swallowing heavily. She knew how important it was to Draco that Scorpius grow up without the same prejudice that had been forced on him at such a young age, or even younger.

"Okay," Scorpius said, nodding, "I'll make friends with the Gryffindors. If they're nice."

Then he took off, racing to see some friends that had just arrived. Draco caught Hermione's eye and smiled.

* * *

"Hermione, have you got a moment?" Theo asked, approaching her as Scorpius' birthday party drew to a close.

"Of course," she said, taken aback, "what is it?"

"I wanted to show you something," Theo said, with a glance to Draco. "Come as well, if you'd like."

Hermione shrugged at the expression on Draco's face and they both turned to follow Theo into the house, through the twisting maze of corridors and Hermione found herself thinking she would not like to go exploring in this house on her own because she likely would never find her way back out.

Finally Theo led them into what Hermione presumed to be his potions lab and recognition dawned.

"Have you found something?" she asked, walking immediately to an active cauldron.

"Take a look," Theo said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Hermione looked closer, seeing a solution being piped through a thin hose into a small dish of blood. She magnified the blood sample and gasped.

"Theo, is this hers?" Hermione asked.

"Astoria's blood, yes," he commented.

"But it's clear," Hermione said, shocked. "How did you manage it?"

"The way we discussed last time," Theo said, walking closer now, gesturing. "By isolating the elements, determining what had caused the slight change and going from there to construct an 'antidote' of sorts. It isn't, of course, but it behaves remarkably similar."

"That's –" Draco began but stopped, seemingly without words.

"Of course," Theo continued quickly, "it still has an issue."

He disconnected the thin hose and within a few minutes the projected blood sample converted almost instantly back to the way it had looked prior.

"It has to stay in almost constant connection with the solution to diminish the curse," Theo said, running a hand through his hair. "I haven't yet figured out a way to keep it active within the blood otherwise."

"What about a direct injection into the blood supply?" Hermione suggested. "Rather than consumed? Or a way to cycle it in consistently?"

"I considered that," Theo said, "the problem is being unable to test it. And what if we try it and something goes wrong?"

"It sounds like something Astoria might need to decide herself," Hermione said quietly and the two men fell silent. "Have you told her yet?"

"I'm about to," Theo said, "now that we've seen this is possible."

"Antimony," Draco commented, and Theo froze.

"Antimony?" he repeated, deep in thought. "It's dangerous, and of course, can be toxic in the wrong quantities. And we would need to use a lot."

"But it will prolong the effects," Draco said, "won't it? Put the potion into a sort of... stasis on contact with the blood."

"Yes, it would," Theo commented, brow furrowed.

"You can neutralize the toxicity of antimony," Hermione commented softly. "If you infuse it with moonseed."

"Moonseed is poisonous, too," Theo said, "are you sure?"

"Quite sure," Hermione said, then paused, chewing her lip. "Double check."

Theo walked over to a bookshelf along the wall and drew an ingredients reference text.

"You're right," Theo said, "together, they somehow aren't poisonous. And it even describes the infusion process. I believe I have both antimony and moonseed here." He glanced at the two, swallowing nervously. "We could try it."

Just then the door to the lab opened and Astoria walked in, looking around curiously. The three froze as if they had been caught in something illicit.

"I thought you lot were up to something, sneaking off from the party," she said casually, a soft smile gracing her features, walking over to the workbench. "What are you working on? Is that... blood?"

She was inspecting the dish of blood on the counter, still magically projected and disconnected from the solution.

Hermione glanced at Theo, not wanting to cross any lines.

"It's a potion we've been brewing," he said, glancing at Astoria, "Hermione and I."

"And what does the potion do?" Astoria asked, amused.

"It's meant to counteract your curse," Theo said, meeting Astoria's eyes. Hermione bit her lip nervously and felt Draco's hand slip into hers.

Astoria froze, lips parted, brow furrowed. She looked to each one of them in turn.

"You can't be serious," she finally said, swallowing. "It isn't possible."

"We didn't know," Theo said, taking Astoria's hand, "which is why we haven't told you yet. It isn't ready."

He waved his wand, reconnecting the dish of blood with the narrow hose leading into the cauldron. The four of them watched as slowly, the curse-darkened blood reacted with the potion and turned a bright red.

Astoria gasped, a hand flying to her mouth, her eyes welling with tears almost instantly.

"We are attempting to figure a solution to the necessity of constant interaction between your blood and the potion," Hermione explained.

But Astoria seemed in a daze and merely shook her head.

"I can't believe you've done this," she said softly. "I never thought..."

She trailed off, overwhelmed.

Hermione felt her breath catch at the woman's emotional response, feeling threatened by tears of her own. Draco pressed a kiss to her temple.

"We are still working on it," Theo reminded Astoria, pulling her towards him, "but Draco's just made a good suggestion we will try."

Astoria simply nodded, resting a hand on Draco's arm. Then she stepped away from Theo and wrapped her arms around Hermione.

"Thank you," she said as she drew back, hands on Hermione's arms. "I appreciate the thought and the effort more than I can say." She glanced to Draco and Theo as well.

"Of course," Hermione murmured.

"I'll do the infusion tonight," Theo said, softly and Hermione nodded.

After a long, heavy pause, Astoria cleared her throat.

"Daphne, Blaise and Tracey are staying for dinner," she commented, "you two are more than welcome to stay as well, if you like."

Hermione looked to Draco who merely shrugged, smirking. She remembered Draco's willingness to properly meet Harry and Ginny.

"Sure, that would be lovely."

* * *

"Healer Granger." Hermione glanced up at the sound of her name, distractedly reading her charts. Healer McTavish was walking towards her. "Healer Scott has requested your presence in the ward."

"Truly?" Hermione asked, eyes wide. She hadn't been expecting to go back so soon. It was only Tuesday and she had spent her whole research period the day before scouring Kenneth's files, doing her best to keep her mind in check. It was much easier to remain clinical in the quiet stability of her office. Some of the physical scans had caught her attention especially.

"Yes," McTavish said, giving Hermione a long look. "I hear your visit on Friday was eventful."

"That it was," Hermione commented. An understatement, she supposed.

"Right," McTavish said. "You've been doing great work, Granger. Keep it up."

With that he was gone. Hermione drew in a long breath, blowing it out. Then she turned back the way she had come in the direction of the closed ward.

* * *

"Healer Granger, thanks for coming," Healer Scott said as Hermione walked into the ward. "I was hoping you might join us. This will only take a few minutes of your time."

"Of course," Hermione said, focusing on her breathing. Her last experience of being in the closed ward still felt quite fresh. _Compartmentalize._

Healer Scott led her into a visitation office where a couple were already seated.

"Healer Granger, this is Michael and Karen Baker," Healer Scott introduced. "Kenneth's parents. Mr and Mrs Baker, this is Healer Granger."

"Nice to meet you both," Hermione said tightly shaking their hands as the couple stood.

"Likewise, of course," Mr Baker said as they were all seated around the desk once more. "Healer Scott tells us you will be working with Kenneth."

"Sort of," Hermione said, "my research is attempting to deal with the issues left behind by the Cruciatus Curse. I will be working with Kenneth in observing his behaviour and seeing how my existing research might apply to the information in his files."

"Healer Scott says you think the issues may be neurological," Mr Baker said. At Hermione's look of surprise, he said, "I'm Muggleborn."

"Right, that is where a lot of my research is leading me," she admitted.

"We just wanted to meet you and offer our assistance," Mrs Baker broke in. "We appreciate the work you're doing to potentially help our son."

"Thank you," she said, nodding. "I did notice there were some scans in his files, of his skeletal system," Hermione glanced to Healer Scott, "I was wondering whether I might obtain one of his nervous system."

"That can be arranged," Healer Scott said with a nod. "I will have it to you tomorrow."

"Thank you," she said tightly again.

"Thank you for coming by," Healer Scott said and Hermione recognized the subtle dismissal.

"Please, feel free to owl us at any time if you have any questions," Mr Baker said, standing once more.

Hermione smiled, nodding as she left the ward.

* * *

"Are you busy?" Draco asked, walking uninvited into Hermione's flat but she was used to it so she simply turned and smiled.

"I think the correct answer here is no?" she asked.

"An excellent answer," he replied, planting a kiss on her lips. "Come with me."

"And where are we going?" Hermione asked, amused at his abnormally positive mood.

"Aylesbury," he commented and Hermione blinked. "And Sevenoaks, and just for fun, Dover." Hermione stared blankly at him for a long moment, confusion on her face, before comprehension dawned.

"Houses?" she asked and Draco grinned.

"Yes, houses," he said, walking over and resting his hands on her hips, "we will be meeting a realtor who apparently comes highly recommended. And be honest, alright? Remember what I said, I'd like to choose a house you can see yourself living in one day."

"I will," Hermione said, biting her lip, "but I also know I would love anything you chose."

"Of course," he said, smirking, "because I have impeccable taste."

"And you're so modest, too," she murmured, smiling.

He gazed at her for a moment before dropping his head, meeting her lips with his, pulling her closer.

"Mmhm, what else," he murmured, drawing away only far enough to rest his forehead on hers.

"You're _so_ handsome," she mocked, grabbing hold of his collar, "you're an amazing flier," slipping a hand around his neck, "a wonderful father." He growled in the back of his throat, kissing her again, harder this time, a hand drifting down to grab her arse, bringing her hips to his.

"You're really good at sex," Hermione gasped, feeling the glorious friction between them flare to life.

"I knew that one," he muttered, his lips finding the pulse in her throat and her eyes nearly rolled back in her head.

"What time do we need to meet the realtor?" she asked, breathing heavily.

"Seven," he said, his teeth and tongue meeting her earlobe like he knew she liked, shoving her up against the kitchen wall.

"It's already five past," she breathed, eyes slipping shut.

"We can be quick," he said, slipping loose the button of her jeans, meeting her lips once more.

"We're never quick," she whispered, even as she lifted his shirt up, breaking from the kiss to pull it over his head, tossing it to the floor.

"We never _try_ to be quick," he corrected, burying his face in her chest. "And I do take that as a challenge."

* * *

Hermione glanced over at Draco as the realtor showed them around the first house just outside of Aylesbury. His hair was disheveled, his eyes sparkling and the smouldering look he gave her had her biting her lip to keep from laughing.

While Hermione knew that his frame of reference was only Malfoy Manor, she had a hard time believing he considered this to be a house. It was absolutely stunning, light and open and full of windows and while it was an old wizarding abode, it had been largely modernized. It was massive, in Hermione's estimation, though she suspected it was significantly smaller than the Manor, all the same. It sat on a large estate of sprawling country, with beautiful gardens, and more than enough space for all of Draco's plans.

"What do you think?" he asked, walking over as the realtor stepped away.

"It's absolutely gorgeous," she murmured, "it's extremely large. Do you need this much space?"

He opened his mouth to respond and then closed it, a strange look on his face.

"Extremely large," he commented, lips twitching, "interesting."

"We didn't all grow up in mansions," Hermione said flippantly and he grinned. "But it is stunning and I love it."

"Should I buy it?" he asked casually.

"Can you afford it?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Isn't that something you need to deliberate?"

"Hermione," he said, rolling his eyes. "I can afford it. With my Quidditch money, let alone the family vault."

"Oh," she said, swallowing. They didn't often discuss money and while Hermione knew his family was wealthy, she didn't know he made that much playing Quidditch, too. "Well shouldn't we see the other ones first?"

"We should," he agreed, "but just so you know, this house comes with an elf." He held up a hand before Hermione could protest. "I've already asked, and the elf does not mind accepting a salary."

"Okay," she sighed, pausing to take one more look around the house before leaving for the next.

The house in Sevenoaks was smaller, much closer to town and overall less appealing. It was still beautiful, of course, but didn't hold a candle to the one in Aylesbury.

Hermione could tell Draco didn't love it as much, and while he politely listened to the realtor explain the features, she could see it hadn't piqued his interest in the same way. He caught her eye, made a face and Hermione subtly shook her head. They didn't stay at that one long.

"Why Dover?" Hermione asked as they Apparated to the third house on his list. Her breath caught momentarily as they arrived. It was an old style home, looking out from high upon a cliff, a salty breeze coming in as waves roared and crashed and broke upon the rocks.

"Why not Dover?" Draco breathed, taking in the view as well. He walked right up the edge, peering down. "Imagine jumping?"

"Why on earth would I jump? Those rocks are almost certainly death," she said, but the sight of it held her in a certain enchantment.

"With a broom of course," he scoffed. "Imagine the rush of it."

Hermione looked over the edge once more, her stomach churning uncomfortably at the thought of jumping, broom or no.

"You'd have to ward the cliffs to keep Scorpius from falling," she stated, "but isn't it beautiful?"

"It's beautiful," he agreed, "and cold."

He was right. The winds blowing in from the channel were chilly and unforgiving.

The house was beautiful, too, and cold. It had an old elegance and class to it and Hermione was almost afraid to touch anything. It was larger than the one at Aylesbury, she thought, but not by much. The grounds were mostly rocky, with a grassy, sparsely vegetated area further inland.

Hermione could see in Draco's eyes he loved it and she found herself caught in the appeal too. While the house couldn't be any more different from the first one they had looked at, she found she loved them both.

"What do you think?" Draco asked, slipping his hand into hers after they finished exploring the house and found themselves back outside at the cliffs.

"It's wonderful," she said.

"Do you like it more or less than the first?" he asked.

"They are so different," Hermione said, shaking her head. "I don't know if I can compare them. You prefer this one?"

"I'm not sure," he murmured. "This one reminds me of the Manor. Cold and elegant."

"Is that a good thing?" she asked softly.

"Not necessarily," he said. But he didn't stop looking beyond the cliffs, watching the waves roll in, crashing loudly. The setting sun glinted in his grey eyes and Hermione was momentarily breathless as he spoke again. "The one at Aylesbury reminds me of you."

He looked at her, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"It reminds me of warmth and brightness, and of home and all the positive things in life." Hermione's heart fluttered, feeling a flood of emotion rush through her. "It reminds me of everything I didn't have growing up in Malfoy Manor."

He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking deep in thought. His lips quirked into a smile.

"I think I'll just take them both," he said, casually.

"You're joking," Hermione responded, glancing at him nervously. "Right?"

"Yes, I'm joking," he said, amused. "What do I need with two houses both in England?"

"It sounds like something you would do," she said, smiling.

"It does," he laughed, "but no. I think I know which one I'm leaning towards. Be honest; which do you see yourself in?"

"They're both lovely," she said, not wanting to force his decision because she truly did love them both.

"Hermione," he said, looking sternly down at her. "Please."

" _Draco_ ," she said, biting her lip. "I like Aylesbury."

"Me too," he said, smiling. "Shall we go make an offer?"

* * *

Hermione drifted around the house at Aylesbury once more, almost not quite believing that Draco had made a cash offer on the house and the realtor was in the other room in a Floo call.

Draco walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"I got a job offer today," he murmured.

"What?" Hermione asked, eyes wide. "With which team?"

"The Harpies," he murmured, gazing out the window into the darkening gardens.

"The Harpies are all women," Hermione said, glancing at him, brow raised.

"Very good," he said, "you've always been a quick learner. It's a coaching position."

"You're still too good to be a coach," Hermione said, tilting her head subconsciously as he dropped a kiss to her collarbone.

"I know," he said, smiling thoughtfully, "but it's nice to hear you say that. I don't think I'll be ready to coach until I'm done with chasing. I'm not going to accept the job but it's a nice offer."

"Something will come up," she said, "I know it."

"You're probably right," he said. "Thanks for coming with me tonight."

"Of course," she said softly. "You're going to dream of jumping off those cliffs tonight, aren't you?"

"Abso- _fucking-_ lutely," he grinned.

Just then the realtor walked back into the room, a tight smile on her face and a stack of paperwork in her hand and the light in Draco's eyes told Hermione he had definitely made the right decision.

* * *

The scans of Kenneth's nervous system Hermione had requested were delivered via secure memo the following afternoon. Hermione's breath caught momentarily in her throat as she briefly considered the implications.

If they didn't align with her research, magical or Muggle, she would be at a significant loss and multiple steps back. If they did, however, she might possibly have a route forward.

Carefully and slowly, she broke the seal on the memo and opened the file. Her heart stopped for a moment and then began beating into overdrive.

Pursing her lips, Hermione drew a file from the nervous system research she had obtained from her visit to the Muggle library. With shaking hands she laid it alongside the scans Healer Scott had given her.

Hermione jumped, startled, at a knock at the door. She dried her hands on her robes as she walked to the door. It was Healer McTavish.

"Healer Scott said she sent you some files, I just wanted to be sure you've received them," Healer McTavish nodded. He started at Hermione for a moment. "Are you alright?"

"Come in here," Hermione said, wide-eyed. Surprised, the man followed Hermione into her office. "Look at these."

Healer McTavish stared at the two sheets laid side by side on her desk. Then his eyes widened and he glanced at Hermione.

"These are... the nervous system," he commented, somewhat unsure.

Hermione bit her lip, nodding. They really needed to integrate more Muggle science into healer training. She truthfully wondered why she had never given it much thought before.

"Yes. This one is textbook normal, according to my Muggle research," she breathed, gesturing to one and then the other, "and this one is Kenneth Baker, the patient I've been working with."

"That's astounding," McTavish said. "Can you explain this?"

"I can't explain why it's happening," Hermione said, "but I suppose that's why we haven't found a solution yet. I suspect the curse causes such extreme pain that the neuron cells that transit messages through the nervous system get overwhelmed and confused and as a result they deny the natural processes they are meant to follow."

She stared down at the two scans, still scarcely believing it. While the textbook scan was functional and orderly, Kenneth's was chaos. Being magical, the scan was a brief snapshot of the functionality of Kenneth's nervous system and it showed neurons being blocked, traveling the wrong pathways, and building up in certain locations, causing the wrong information, or a lack of information at all, to reach the brain.

"Do you have any ideas?" McTavish said.

Hermione glanced over at the tall stack of magical research, beside the Muggle stack.

"I have some thoughts," she said, permitting a small smile.

After Healer McTavish left, Hermione stayed late in her office, sorting through all of her magical research to get herself organized in preparation for what she had determined would be the next phase of her research project. She jotted a quick memo to Healer Scott to explain her intentions, as well as a letter to the Bakers.

She sought to embark on a therapeutic procedure based on some spells she had found in the St. Mungo's library for other purposes that Hermione suspected she might be able to alter to suit her aims, now that she better understood what she was dealing with.

It would mean significant time spent in the closed ward. Briefly she recalled her experiences in the ward the previous week and she focused on her breathing as she walked the letter to Kenneth's parents to the hospital owlery.

She could only hope the experimental procedure would go as smoothly as possible. And perhaps, now that she had a plan of action, the situation wouldn't feel so hopeless.

Hermione let out a long breath as she watched the owl fly off into the night.

She knew it wouldn't be that easy. But all she could do was to simply keep moving forward. Those patients deserved as much.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note:** Hello, chapter 17! I want to thank everyone who is still following along and reading this story, and extra thanks to those of you who left reviews. It means everything to us as writers and reviews are super inspirational. Thanks for all the support, friends. I hope you enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

"So what is it exactly that you're going to be doing?" Draco asked, looking around the kitchen of his flat to be sure he had packed everything.

"It's hard to explain," Hermione said from her seat on the island, tilting her head. She leisurely cast a handful of spells and his kitchen shone and sparkled like new. "Basically it's a combination of spells and an altered Muggle procedure I found in my research. I'm hopeful it might work to re-route the jammed nerves in his system but will most likely take multiple sessions."

Draco paused, glancing at her curiously.

"So that means multiple trips into the closed ward," he commented.

"Yes, starting next week," Hermione agreed, biting her lip. "Under controlled conditions."

She understood his concern, since he had been the one to deal with her the first time she had gone into the Janus Thickey ward. But given the circumstances, Hermione suspected it would be different this time. For one, she knew what to expect. Last time she had gone in almost entirely blind, not knowing what would await her.

Secondly, she would be there to actively pursue results in the next phase of her research. She wasn't going to feel nearly as helpless this time.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Draco asked, sighing. He walked over to her, leaning against the island. "I know you don't need to hear it from me, or want to, but last time you were in there, it nearly wrecked you. I know how important this is to you but isn't there some way you can do it without putting yourself in that situation again?"

"It has to be in the ward," Hermione said, "Kenneth can't leave. But I won't be alone, Healer Scott will be there with me, and the observing healers who have been assigned to help me."

"Hermione, don't take this the wrong way," Draco began and Hermione rolled her eyes, a smile teasing the corner of her mouth. "Do you think it would be beneficial to talk to someone? About what happened to you?"

"I talked to a mind healer after the war," she shrugged, "it helped, a little and when it didn't help anymore, I stopped."

"Did you talk to them about that day?" Draco asked pointedly.

"Not specifically," Hermione said, evasively. "It was too fresh, at the time."

"And now?" he pressed. "Is it still too fresh? I understand if you don't want to talk to a mind healer, but you can talk to me, you know." He held up his hands at the look she gave him. "It might help. I think I may know a bit more about it than you realize. A _lot_ more."

"Draco, I appreciate your concern," Hermione said, taking one of his hands between hers, "but we are too close for that. If it's still bothering me after this next trip, I'll consider speaking with a mind healer, okay?"

"That's a horribly Slytherin response," Draco said, but his lips turned up into a smirk and Hermione sensed he was going to let it go for the time being.

In truth, she was trying not to over-think her reaction the last time she had visited the closed ward. She was hesitant to allow it that sort of power over her. Hermione was hopeful that she would be more adequately prepared this time and while the idea of speaking to a mind healer wasn't without merit, she would certainly prefer if she did not have to follow that route.

Her research just felt so close and a part of her was optimistic that if she could just push through there was a breakthrough so near. She did not want to prolong the potential results that felt within reach.

He stepped away and briefly perused the flat, seemingly satisfied. He shrunk the collection of boxes and tucked all of his possessions carefully into a pocket.

"Well, we are officially no longer neighbours," he said with a smirk.

"Yes," Hermione said, looking around wistfully. "Do you remember when I had just moved in and my flat looked this same way? All empty white spaces?"

"Because you refused to unpack when you learned I was your neighbour," he said, grinning, resting one hand on the island to either side of her.

"Yes," she smiled peacefully. "You said it was ridiculous."

"It _was_ ridiculous," Draco said, kissing her on the mouth. "And then you unpacked and look where it got us. Imagine if you had panicked and moved out the next day?"

"I can't imagine that," Hermione admitted, drawing him closer, playing with his collar. "I'll miss having you so close."

"I'll still be around your flat," he murmured, kissing her again. "And we'll only be an Apparition trip apart. You'll be around my new house all the time, I'm sure. I probably won't be able to pull you away from the gardens."

"Probably not," she agreed. "It's just the nostalgia of it all, I suppose."

"I know what you mean," Draco said, looking around once more. "All the surfaces here have been so well utilized."

"That's true," Hermione laughed. "Including this island."

" _Especially_ this island," he said, thoughtful. "Or was that your island?"

"It's been both," she assured him with a smile.

"I don't know if you noticed," Draco said with an innocent look that Hermione instantly saw through, "but my new kitchen has a _huge_ island."

"I noticed," Hermione said, meeting his eyes, "why do you think I liked that house so much?"

* * *

As Draco had suspected, Hermione spent a large amount of time at his new house that weekend, helping him unpack and get everything into order. Scorpius had been over on Saturday as well and absolutely loved his dad's new house and had already decided where he wanted the Quidditch pitch to go.

Hermione found she scarcely wanted to go back home to her cramped flat, which was fine because Draco seemed to want her there as well. And by the time Hermione went home on Sunday evening, they had christened the new island – twice.

Being at Draco's new house over the weekend also allowed Hermione to distract herself somewhat from what she faced at work on Monday, as the nerves had begun to creep in as time passed.

One of the first things Hermione had done was to arrange a meeting with Draco's new house elf, Paris, as he had given her full permission to deal with the elf as she saw fit, provided she didn't scare the elf off entirely. Hermione had ignored the edgy look to Draco as he walked away and left her to it.

"Paris is honoured to serve Master Draco of the great houses of Malfoy and Black, Miss Hermione. Paris could hardly believe her luck," the elf had squeaked when Hermione had asked for Paris' opinion of the situation. The elf was quite young with a large bow in her sparse hair and wore a clean and neatly pressed pillowcase.

"I am told you agreed with Draco that you would accept a salary for your excellent work here," Hermione had said, offering the elf her warmest smile. She had learned, despite Dobby's inclinations towards the idea, that most elves did not take kindly to offers of freedom and did not want to frighten the elf off so early.

"If Master so wishes," Paris said nervously. "Paris has no use for Sickles and Galleons and Knuts, Miss Hermione."

"None at all?" Hermione had asked. "I'm sure you could think of something?"

The elf thought for a long moment, glancing nervously to the sitting room where Draco and Scorpius were playing a game.

"Paris does like Golden Snitches, Miss Hermione," the elf finally said, "Paris would save up to purchase one."

"That sounds perfect," Hermione had said, satisfied.

Hermione was drawn from her musings at a tapping on the window. Surprised to receive post at such a late hour, she let the elegant owl inside her flat.

 _Hermione,_

 _I've completed the antimony infusion. So far it seems to be working as hoped. Astoria is prepared to try it. I am, however, still hesitant until we can see the results on a longer term. Feel free to come by at some point this coming week; I have owled Draco as well._

 _Theo_

Hermione let out a long breath, feeling as if a large weight had suddenly been lifted from her chest. If the antimony infusion had acted as they had hoped, it meant the issue of constant interaction between the blood and the elixir was solved. If anything, there might be some tweaks to be made to improve the potion but the biggest issue moving forward had been removing the poisonous quality of the antimony.

She suspected Theo was simply being excessively cautious. As a potioneer, he had likely seen side effects crop up unexpectedly after the fact. Some potions, if brewed incorrectly, could see adverse reactions as long as a month later.

Drawing a quill and sheet of parchment to her while the owl was still there, Hermione quickly wrote a reply, confirming that her and Draco would arrange to come over as soon as possible.

With that positive thought on her mind and with high hopes for the treatment she was about to embark on with Kenneth, Hermione slipped into an easy sleep.

* * *

Monday brought Draco to an early Quidditch practice, in preparation for a game that evening. While he was thrilled to have heard from Theo that the potion for Astoria's curse seemed to somehow be – Merlin blessed – working, he had been fighting a nervous feeling in his stomach all day for Hermione beginning her treatment in the closed ward.

He wished he would have stayed with her the night before so he could have at least seen her that morning but she had wanted to get some things done at home and Draco was still organizing his new house.

So he had done his best to trust that she could look after herself but remembering the way the ward had affected her last time was giving Draco a hard time achieving that.

"Malfoy," Carrington called and Draco flew down to meet his coach.

"Sir, what is it?" he asked. Draco glanced apprehensively from Carrington to the general manager of the Falmouth Falcons as well as one of the owners.

"You're to go have a chat," Carrington said gruffly, clapping him hard on the back. The man's face displayed nothing and Draco felt the nervous knot in his stomach amplify. He suspected the meeting was to do with the fast approaching end of his contract with the Falcons.

"Right," Draco said, swallowing heavily. He walked with the two men, gripping his broom rather more firmly than he meant to as he followed them to Carrington's office.

"I understand you have received other offers," the general manager said without preamble.

"Yes, sir," Draco responded stiffly, "though I have no interest in relocating to Ireland to play for Kenmare."

"What about Holyhead?" the owner asked, "or Ballycastle?"

"Ballycastle?" Draco asked, staring blankly.

"Yes, Ballycastle," the general manager said, handing Draco an offer. It was indeed a contract offer to chase with the Ballycastle Bats for less than the Kenmare offer had been, but more than he was currently making with the Falcons. "Just come in today. Northern Ireland, as part of the United Kingdom, does not operate under the same laws of international travel as Kenmare would."

Draco considered the idea for a moment. While he still had no desire to play in Ireland, his manager's words had merit. Northern Ireland was not treated the same way, much like Wales, and therefore Draco would not have to move in order to play for Ballycastle.

"I will have to give it some thought," Draco said truthfully.

"While you're thinking that over," the owner said, "also consider this."

And he too handed Draco an offer sheet. It was an offer to remain chasing with the Falmouth Falcons. Draco found he very suddenly had a lump in his throat.

"This one," he said, politely but instantly.

"You didn't read it," the manager said, amused.

"I don't have to," he said but gave the offer a cursory glance. The offer was slightly less than the one from Ballycastle. "I will stay with Falmouth."

The general manager and owner exchanged a brief glance.

"You realize the offer is for less," the owner said, brow furrowed. "We would be beyond appreciative if you chose to stay on."

"The difference is irrelevant," Draco said shortly, horrified to feel himself grow emotional. "This pitch has been my second home for the past two years and it will take more than that to push me away."

"We are thrilled to hear you say that," the general manager said. Draco shook hands with both men before making his way back to the pitch to carry on with practice, feeling particularly light-hearted, even as his thoughts remained on Hermione. At least he would have some good news to pass on to her later.

* * *

As Hermione prepared an empty room in the Janus Thickey ward for Kenneth's treatment, she was careful to focus on her breathing. So far being in the ward had not affected her the way it had the first time, but she was yet to be faced with any patients.

The healers in the ward who had been assigned to help her had been more than excellent, graciously doing as she requested and treating Kenneth and the other patients with the utmost respect. Hermione quickly surmised it took a special sort of person to work in the closed ward and her admiration for the healers – Healer Squall and Healer Grant – rose significantly.

Hermione fidgeted with a galleon in the pocket of her robes in an attempt to keep herself both focused and grounded. Specifically, the charmed galleon she had used to send messages to the DA during their fifth year. Hermione had always kept it as a reminder of the impacts a few can make.

"Hello, Hermione," Kenneth greeted her as Healer Grant escorted him into the room.

"Hello, Kenneth!" Hermione said warmly, fixing the young man with a smile.

"Bernie was telling me about a new adventure we're going on today," Kenneth said, looking pleased. Healer Grant gave a tight nod.

"Hermione, can you step out into the corridor for a moment?" Healer Grant asked, observing the rule that Kenneth preferred to address healers by their given names.

"Of course," Hermione said, glancing to the window and seeing Kenneth's parents.

"Healer Granger," Kenneth's father greeted while his mother simply pulled Hermione into a hug. "We so greatly appreciate what you're doing for Kenneth."

"I don't anticipate immediate results," Hermione cautioned, taken aback at the sudden embrace. "But we are hopeful."

"This is more of a chance than Kenneth's been given in years," Karen Baker said, emotion clear on her face. "Just the fact that he hasn't been forgotten – and all these other unfortunate patients – is uplifting."

"Of course," Hermione said tightly, turning the galleon over in her pocket. Compartmentalization was her aim for the day.

After a brief conversation she returned to the room, finding that Healers Grant and Squall had prepared Kenneth to her specifications.

The therapy she was about to begin with Kenneth was a unique and groundbreaking combination of Muggle and magical resources – Muggle nerve treatments expanded upon by a number of healing spells, some modified to specifically target the areas which were the most damaged. Kenneth would be put into a subconscious state while the treatment occurred.

Hermione would be able to monitor Kenneth's progress through nerve scans, and of course, observing his behaviour moving forward, which was why it was so essential for his observing healers to be working with her, given that they interacted with Kenneth almost daily.

"Are we ready?" Hermione asked, sharing a look with the two healers.

"Yes," Healer Squall said, her eyes sparkling, a tentative smile on her face.

"Then let's begin."

* * *

Hermione stayed late in her office, reflecting on how the day had gone. It was too soon to tell how effective the first treatment had been, but she would take new nerve scans tomorrow and the second treatment would occur on Wednesday. That had been determined so as not to bombard Kenneth's mind with too much stimulus without time to adjust.

All in all, the treatment had went as she had intended and for now that would have to do.

She finished her report for the day, tucking it into a file, playing with the charmed galleon.

She glanced up, shook, at a soft knock on the door. Draco walked into her office, giving her a curious look. Her eyed widened; she hadn't realized how late it was.

"Hi," she said, walking over to him. "Is your match over already?"

"It didn't last an hour," Draco said, "and I wanted to come see how your day went."

"As good as can be expected," Hermione said, smiling. "I'll know more tomorrow and as time passes how he's reacting to the treatment."

"You seem far less catatonic than last time," Draco commented. He lifted a hand to her cheek, sliding it into her hair. "That's good."

"Very good," Hermione agreed. "Though, to be fair, I didn't spend much time outside of the treatment room and Kenneth was largely unconscious."

"One step at a time," he said, smiling. "Did you eat?"

"Not yet," Hermione said, organizing her files into a neat stack, "would you like to come with me to the cafeteria?"

He nodded his head, taking her hand and walking her from her office, pausing while Hermione cast her usual wards. When they both sat down to eat, Draco drew a sheet of parchment from his pocket.

"Some news, today," he said, handing her the contract offer from Falmouth.

Hermione scanned the page, eyes widening until she looked at Draco, jaw dropped in surprise.

"Draco!" she exclaimed, "this is fantastic news. Did you accept?"

"I didn't even hesitate," he admitted, "this offer was higher than I even anticipated they would be able to make. Apparently there was also a new offer from Ballycastle for more – but I find money is not an important motivator these days."

He looked at her in a significant sort of way that had Hermione's stomach doing flops and she wasn't quite sure how to process it just yet.

"That's amazing," she said, "I'm so proud of you. That must be a relief."

"It is," he agreed, "very much so. Other good news, I hear, on the Astoria front."

"Yes," Hermione said, nodding between bites of her sandwich. "I got the impression Theo wants us to come see it. Should we go tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow is good, I have early practice so we can go once you're done work," Draco said, "I will owl Theo tonight."

"We have much to be thankful for," Hermione said softly, taking his hand across the table. He stared at her for a moment, his grey eyes meeting hers. He twisted his hand, entwining their fingers, giving hers a squeeze.

"We certainly do." He continued staring at her for another long moment. "Are you sure you're alright? Today didn't affect you more than you're letting on?"

"Today was mostly positive and encouraging," Hermione said, truthfully. "The healers I'm working with in the ward are wonderful and extremely good with their work and their patients. The first therapy session went smoothly, but like I said, we won't know if we are making any headway until after at least a couple sessions."

"Right," Draco said. "Will you keep me informed? As best you can, anyways. I don't know much about healing but I am behind you and I know you're going to change the world for these patients. I just don't want you to suffer as a result."

"Thank you," she whispered, feeling the swelling of emotion she had been trying to push back earlier in the ward. She glanced at him, making a face. "Love you."

"Love you more," he said casually. "Come to my place tonight?"

"Of course," she said, meeting his gaze.

* * *

As Hermione had expected, it was too soon for the nerve scans to show any significant results. But she stowed the scan all the same, marking it with the date and tucked it with the initial scan. If the treatment worked, it would be paramount that Hermione kept proper records of how everything had gone and how long the results would take.

Hermione meant to request Healer Scott to provide her with nerve scans of some of the other patients to compare. She suspected she would find a lot of similar patterns and if that was the case, she was hopeful the research and therapy would work appropriately for other patients of the ward as well.

It turned out to be beneficial that Hermione was not working in the closed ward that day, as the healing floors were particularly busy and she found herself pulled away from her research period early.

While the patients she worked with as a Senior Healer were often more serious cases, Hermione had always found a methodical sort of peace about healing. Particularly in light of her research being so complex and the results so unknown, it was nice to know the potions and the spellwork that would bring about the well-being of her patients in the healing rooms.

Before she knew it the day had passed in a blur and it was the first day in a long time that Hermione had just simply been a healer and she found it to be refreshing.

She Apparated home to change and Draco came over shortly after. Hermione suspected that they would be unable to do anything with the potion given Theo's hesitancy to proceed until he had monitored it for a while. Although her suspicions were proven correct, she and Draco stayed for a visit regardless.

And though she knew that the first treatment had gone well enough, there still crept a niggling doubt into her mind, which manifested itself as physical discomfort that night, knowing the next session would be the next day.

And when Hermione awoke in the middle of the night, heart racing and her body induced into a cold sweat, that old nightmare – she had always found it to be the worst – fresh in her mind, Hermione found with a bitterness she wasn't surprised.

She had suspected it would be simply a matter of time before the nightmares of Bellatrix and that day at Malfoy Manor would return in force.

She laid awake, wide-eyed, until her heart rate was appeased that it had only been a dream. Hermione cuddled herself into Draco's shoulder as he shifted in his sleep, breathing in his scent until she drifted back to an uneasy, fitful sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note:** I can't believe how far along we are with this story. Only a couple more chapters I suspect and perhaps an epilogue. But not to worry, I have new stories in the works for anyone who is interested! (Shameless self-plug). I truly want to thank everyone who has stuck with me and I can't say enough how much the reviews have meant to me as I no longer have any of this written in advance. They are extremely inspirational in approaching the end and I have been feeling the love. It's very humbling and sometimes I just shake my head at the response to this fic. xoxoxo

A million special thanks and hugs to La Belladone x for trudging through my unedited drafts of this chapter. It's greatly appreciated.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

At first, Draco wasn't sure whether he was imagining things but after the first few days he was convinced Hermione was having her old nightmares once more. She wouldn't scream or flail or even show much of a response outwardly but Draco, sometimes prone to insomnia himself, would see her tense, her breathing would pick up, her brow furrowed in despair. Sometimes she would shake or tears would streak silently down her cheeks.

And Draco didn't know what to do. He had suggested more than once that she speak to someone about that day, as it was obviously haunting her more than she was willing to admit.

Draco knew for a fact it was a result of spending so much time in the closed ward, facing those very real demons in the form of her patients who had not been so lucky as to walk away with only nightmares.

Draco knew well enough the affects the Cruciatus curse could have. He had seen it more than a few times, felt it more times than he could remember, staring down the end of a wand in crippling despair. After a while it all just began to blend together and torture was torture and sometimes – if he was lucky – he would black out from the pain. Sometimes, he had remained painfully conscious, fully aware of every jolt of excruciating pain, drawn out as if time had slowed down.

But that had been years ago and Draco had mostly been able to move past it. Seeing Hermione like this, however, broke his heart in a different sort of way.

The last time he had brought up the subject she had insisted she was fine, forced a fake smile and Draco had looked away, not of a mind to push. Draco had always considered her to be capable of looking after herself, but it appeared to be no longer the case. Despite the visible evidence, she still insisted she was fine when he broached the subject. The fake smile worried him, though he was at a loss as to what more he could do.

To Draco, who knew her so well, it was as if his girl was falling apart. When she did sleep, he could see it was riddled with traumatic nightmares, though she would repeatedly insist it was nothing.

Draco tried his hardest to remain supportive but more and more found himself pacing at night, in a futile attempt to calm his rising temper and mounting frustration. He didn't know how she couldn't see it – her beautiful face was pale and ashen, her hair lank and her usually warm eyes dull. She was fading and his heart was breaking, forced to watch her slip away from him.

It had been two weeks since Hermione had began her course of treatment with the patient she was working with directly, Kenneth. Draco knew the results they had been seeing were less than hoped for but if he asked, Hermione simply brushed it off, saying they expected it would take time.

But he knew she hadn't expected results to take this long.

Draco was conflicted because he knew how important her work was to her – and to countless others in the wizarding world as well – and Hermione wore that importance as a burden. He didn't want her to give up on her research but he didn't know how to look on any longer as she wore herself into the ground over it.

Two nights prior, as Draco had lay awake watching her, hew eyes had flown open, her heart pounding furiously against Draco's own, gasping.

Draco had merely stared at her.

"Hermione –" he had began but she had shaken her head tightly, biting her lower lip. As her breathing slowed to normal and the terror dissipated from her eyes, she had simply rolled over, pressing her back against his chest and Draco had drawn her closer to himself, kissing her hair, disappointment rolling through him like waves.

He was at his wit's end. It made him feel unsettled and helpless and Draco hadn't allowed himself to feel helpless in years because it reminded him of being at Hogwarts in his sixth year and he hated it.

But Hermione had grown to be so much more than he had ever thought she could.

The initial realization that he was in love with her had been difficult for Draco to accept at first, but there had been no denying it was the case. He had become so accustomed to doing things on his own, with only Scorpius, for so many years that Draco struggled with the idea of having someone else so close.

Ironically, he found himself wishing she would let him in. Draco knew he was stubborn and irritable at times and he hadn't always been a considerate listener, but over the last five years as a father, he liked to think much of that had changed.

He wasn't about to judge Hermione for events that had occurred during a war, events that were more his fault than hers.

He simply didn't know how he could make her see that.

* * *

Hermione ran a hand through her unkempt hair, absently drawing her fingers out as they snagged on a tangled curl, a mug of coffee clutched like a lifeline in her other hand. Idly she wondered what she had spilled on her robes before recalling she had worn these same ones for the past three days.

She stared down at the spread of nerve scans on her desk, frustration creeping up on her once more as it had done for almost two weeks. Kenneth had been through seven rounds of therapy, and while the third scan had shown improvements – giving Hermione a flutter of hope that the treatment could work – there had been no change since. Healers Squall and Grant had reported no significant improvement in Kenneth's behaviour.

She had spent almost every spare minute at the hospital, poring over her results, scouring the research to determine what had caused the treatment to stagnate.

Hermione sometimes felt as if the pressure she had imposed on herself with this project was like a heavy, asphyxiating cloak, forcing her to the ground but the only way out was forward.

She knew it was taking a toll, physically and mentally, but she could not back out now, not when she was so close. If only she could break through this barrier, she was convinced, there would be results. She felt so near but yet, so far, and the anxiety it had inspired deep within her was all-encompassing.

But the lives of so many people were at stake and Hermione felt she simply had no choice.

Spending so much time in the Janus Thickey ward was difficult – though some days were considerably worse than others. On days where Hermione and her two assisting healers simply went in and performed Kenneth's treatment, she was able to keep her mind far more clinical.

Other days, when she spent prolonged amounts of time in the closed ward, when she interacted with the other patients and healers and witnessed the chaotic desperation as she had on her first visit – those days were another story entirely.

Hermione had come across a heartbreaking moment with Frank and Alice Longbottom two days prior, wherein the two were sitting at a table, having a cup of tea with a healer. Frank was attempting to engage Alice in a game of cards, and his wife was overcome with fear at not recognizing Frank.

As the two former Aurors were separated by healers, Hermione found herself leaning against a wall, attempting with futility to control her breathing as tears sprang to her eyes. She thought of Neville almost every day lately, and how they had not even realized, through so many years of school, the struggles he had been going through. She had had to leave the ward before the tears could overtake her.

She was grateful McTavish had granted her additional daily research time for the duration of her work in the closed ward given that it was time sensitive and the treatments required a significant amount of time.

Hermione was snapped from her reverie as her healer charts began flashing angrily and with a start, she realized she was late in returning to the healing floor.

Cursing under her breath, she hastily stacked the charts back into their folder, grabbed her wand and charts, and left her office.

"Healer Granger," McTavish said sternly as she came across him in the corridor. "You're needed in room nine."

"Yes sir," she murmured, making to move past him when her superior stopped her with a hand to her arm. He observed her for a long moment, disapproving.

"Are you feeling alright, Healer Granger?" the man asked.

"I'm fine," Hermione said, a mantra she had been repeating to herself, and to Draco over the past weeks. It had started to feel more and more like a lie.

"No offense, but you don't look fine," McTavish said. "You look like you haven't slept in a week."

"I've just been a bit stressed, you know," she said, hoping to brush it off. She rubbed her eyes blearily, opening them a bit wider. She forced a tight smile. "Right, room nine."

McTavish's grip held on her arm briefly before he let go. The man was still gazing at her unnervingly. Hermione found herself fidgeting with the charmed galleon she now kept in her robe pocket at all times.

"Granger, I can't in good conscience allow you to heal in this state," McTavish said, almost apologetically. He tapped his own charts one, summoning a different healer to room nine in Hermione's place.

"What?" Hermione asked, bewildered. Her brows knit together, cross, as she swayed, a poorly timed dizzy spell passing her body. Briefly she tried to recall whether she had remembered to eat lunch. "I'm perfectly capable of doing my job, Healer McTavish."

"As your supervisor, I'm going to ask you to go home," the man said, not unkindly. "Stop by the potions cabinet and take some dreamless sleep with you Granger; get some _sleep_ , for Merlin's sake. You're of no use to anyone in this state, least of all yourself."

Hermione tensed, a wave of irritation coming over her. She was more likely to know whether she was able to heal or not.

"If you insist, sir," she said shortly, not wanting to lose her temper at the indignity of being sent home. She spun on her heel, walking towards the lift. She would simply return to her research if he wouldn't allow her to do her work as a healer.

"I'll walk you to the Apparition point," McTavish called, as if reading her mind. "Please do not return to you office until tomorrow. I mean it; go home and recover or I'll be checking you in for observation."

Hermione bristled at his words. Obviously her superior was simply trying to look out for her but she felt an irrational surge of anger. She begrudgingly walked beside the man as he led her to the Apparition point, feeling like a scolded child and not appreciating the sentiment.

She had much to prepare in advance of her next treatment session with Kenneth tomorrow and this time could be much better spent at the hospital.

"Take this," McTavish said sternly, retrieving a vial from the potions cupboard en route. "It's dreamless sleep but with a delay. It will activate fifteen minutes from now."

Hermione silently fumed but accepted the vial. It was something she rarely chose to indulge in, given the effects the potion could have on the body and its addictive quality.

She Apparated home, blood spiking to her cheeks with embarrassment. As she removed her robes, she felt the draught activate and fell to a deep sleep almost instantly.

* * *

Draco was in Hermione's flat when she awoke some hours later, the latter startled to hear noise coming from her living room. She crept from the bedroom, wand in hand and relaxed as she saw it was only him. He was absently flipping through the channels on her television, though he didn't seem to be paying any real attention.

He glanced up as she entered the room, his expression neutral.

"How was practice?" she asked from the doorway, feeling somehow awkward.

"Practice was fine," Draco said with a sigh. "Uneventful. How was work? I didn't expect you to be home yet when I came by."

"McTavish sent me home," she said, rolling her eyes, "can you believe that?"

"Yes, I can," he said softly. Something flashed across his face for a moment as he stared at her. "You haven't been well, Hermione. I probably would have sent you home too."

"I'm fine," she retorted, the same irritation from earlier spiking through her. _Not fine_. _So not fine_. "Nothing a bit of sleep hasn't fixed."

"You don't sleep, you don't eat," Draco listed, his tone deceptively light. "Surely you've been a healer long enough to know that's not an ideal combination."

"Don't patronize me," she growled. "I _do_ sleep."

"You wake from nightmares every bloody hour," he exclaimed, rising from his seat and walking towards her, "and _someone_ has to look out for your well-being. When are you going to admit that you can't handle this pressure? Let me _help_ you, Hermione."

"My work is stressful," she ground through her teeth, "and this pressure is just a part of it. How do you expect to help me with that?"

"Oh right, I'm _just_ a Quidditch player, I can't possibly understand the intricacies of an important profession like healing," he seethed.

"That's not what I meant," Hermione said, glaring at him. "You're making assumptions about me and my research."

"This is no assumption, Hermione: you're struggling because you haven't let go of what happened that day and every time you go into that damn ward it all comes back to you," he said, tone dropping. "I understand you're under a lot of pressure and I realize that I won't understand all of that. But try to remember that I was _there_ that day, too."

He stepped away, running a hand through his already untidy hair, his grey eyes flashing.

"I _know_ I should have helped you back then, but unfortunately, it would have meant the lives of my entire family and quite possibly you and your friends as well." He held up a hand as she opened her mouth to interrupt, the look on his face causing a shiver to pass Hermione's spine. "Do you think I don't know anything about the Cruciatus curse? Do you think, just maybe, I might have some experience dealing with it?"

"I don't –" Hermione began lamely but he cut her off.

"Do you suppose I just lived with the fucking _Dark Lord_ as long as I did, _disappointing_ as I was, without catching the brunt of his anger? Without being his personal favourite punching bag?" he asked, his voice rising.

"I can't talk to you about it!" Hermione exclaimed, cutting him off. She furiously brushed the tears away that had formed at his words. Desperation began creeping in as she felt her heart racing, her breathing grow erratic. "I can't begin to imagine what you went through, Draco, but I just can't talk about it!"

"Then talk to a healer!" he shouted. "For Merlin's sake, Hermione, you can't go on like this, and I can't keep watching it!"

"Then don't!" she hissed, "but you don't understand how important this work is to me!"

"I've been here by your side all along!" Draco said, incredulous. "I've done every bloody thing I can think of to help you but you have to be willing to help yourself!"

"I'll be fine once –" she tried.

"You think I don't realize how important your research is?" he roared, gesturing wildly, ignoring her. He shook his head, eyes burning into her. "Hermione." He took a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling. "Do you think it doesn't kill me that there are patients in there because of my blood?"

Hermione paled, thinking again of Frank and Alice Longbottom, victims of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange. Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks as she stared at him, unwilling and unable to wipe them away, her vision closing in on her.

He grit his teeth, failing in his attempt to regain control of his temper.

"Do you think it doesn't absolutely _haunt_ me every _fucking_ day that there are patients like Kenneth who are in that ward as a direct result of _my_ actions?"

Draco swiped angrily at his face and Hermione realized with a start his eyes were glistening.

She didn't say anything. She couldn't recall if she had seen him like this, ever. He stubbornly avoided her gaze as he wiped the stray tears from his cheeks with the heel of his hand.

"If I hadn't let the bloody Carrows in the castle _your_ patient would not be there," he hissed, "so tell me again how I don't understand the importance of what you're doing. Trust me, Hermione, no one wants you to succeed more than me but I can't condone you driving yourself into the ground over it!"

"Some things are more important than one person!" she exclaimed, her voice coming back to her. "I realize it isn't ideal, but I've come this far and we're so close!"

"So close you can't figure out why you aren't getting results?" Draco cried, running a hand roughly through his pale hair. He slammed a hand to her kitchen table in frustration and Hermione flinched. She stared at him for a moment, eyes wide. "So close you've taken up residence in your fucking office and given up on looking after yourself properly? Hermione, _look_ at this situation! You're hanging on by a fucking thread!"

"I'm stronger than you obviously think I am," she retorted angrily.

"Don't give me that," he spat, "I never said you weren't strong. I said this situation is one you can't and _shouldn't_ have to deal with on your own. I just wish you trusted me to talk to me about it, and if not me then anyone! Potter, even, I don't give a fuck!"

"I trust you, Draco," she said softly, voice breaking as she stared at him.

"You aren't showing it," he stated flatly, "all this time, when I've suggested talking to someone, because I _know_ about it, you haven't trusted my opinion."

Hermione stared at him, lost for a response. The panic clutched at her chest, her heart beating out of control. The tears spiked again as she fought the pressure to succumb.

He let out a sound of frustration, shaking his head.

"You're the most important thing to me, Hermione, and I'd do most anything for you – but right now I can't fucking look at you," he bit out, stepping away, "I'll talk to you later."

"Draco, wait," she cried, following him, choking on a sob. Her head was spinning as the last of her resolve gave out.

" _Later_ , Hermione," he hissed, not turning back to face her.

Hermione felt the slam of the door in her soul and she fell to the wall, sliding to the floor as anxiety and desperation and fear swept through her like a hurricane and she couldn't piece together two thoughts as she lay on the floor, sobbing, her heart in a million pieces on the floor about her.

* * *

If someone had asked Hermione down the road how she had managed her way through the following week, she wouldn't have been able to answer.

If she was honest, it had all begun to blend together. Work and research and loneliness and struggle and panic and tears. So many tears; so much loneliness. It all felt the same, a bitter, flavourless taste that had covered her world with a haze of resigned despair.

More times than she could count, she had found herself with a quill poised over a sheet of parchment, ready to owl Draco in an instant from the hospital owlery if only she could find the words.

She hadn't heard from him since their argument, nearly a week prior, and Hermione found herself missing him with a desperate, heartsick yearning that she would not have expected just months ago. He had grown to be such a powerful force in her life. He had said they would talk later but had failed to specify what that meant.

Hermione still felt a small surge of anger when she thought of his words, coupled with an overwhelming sense of shame. She knew his words had not been intended to hurt her, but she had been able to think of little else. Much of what he had said had needled its way into her brain, picking at her insecurities.

When Hermione really looked at herself the next morning in the mirror, her hair frazzled, her usually warm eyes red and bloodshot, complete with heavy, dark bags, she had been shocked.

The hardest part was that she had begun to realize the extent of the truth behind his words. Had she been glossing over the impact this all was having on her, charging forward with a relentless and vicious determination?

Draco had been asking her to talk to someone for weeks but she had largely ignored him. It had broke her heart for him to say he thought she was distrustful of him. Draco had grown to be the most reliable, consistent part of her life; he could undoubtedly pull her out of any negative mood, always by her side no matter what crazy ideas she was in pursuit of.

But yet when he had made a single request of her, she had shrugged it off, pushing him away, as if he hadn't bore witness to all of her struggles. The shame crept back in once more.

Furthermore, it was a harrowing thought that she had never realized exactly how much of an impact his own experiences with the subject matter had had on him. Had she really been so singularly caught up in herself?

She had been so terrified to share with Draco her recollections of that fateful day at Malfoy Manor – the thoughts that had passed her mind, with any shred of hope so beyond recall. She didn't want him to look at her any differently.

But was it now too late? Had she allowed the situation to get so far beyond repair that Draco no longer wanted anything to do with her?

The thought left a bitter lump in Hermione's throat that tasted like her own fears.

She could not stand the thought of losing Draco from her life, and if that meant shelving her pride, baring all of her soul to him, sharing those darkest of experiences with him, then that was what she would do.

Drawing a deep breath, reaching inside of her for what remained of her reckless Gryffindor courage, Hermione drew a quill and began to write.

* * *

Draco shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, an old nervous habit. He half-heartedly kicked the Quaffle that lay in the grass at his feet, watching as it rolled a ways before coming to a stop.

The air in his new house had become stifling, the house itself feeling large and empty and Draco had Apparated to Falmouth intent on a fly to clear his head, but once he arrived he had realized he didn't have the spirit or the energy to take to the skies.

He had felt increasingly exhausted and prone to that horrible feeling of helplessness, the longer this blank silence went on between him and Hermione.

He had probably been harder on her than he had meant to – if he was honest, he hadn't intended to open up on her like that at all. But seeing her like that had cracked open some long broken part of him.

So many times Draco had considered owling her or Apparating to her flat, but he simply didn't know where to go from where they were at. He had never been good with relationships or women or arguments and this was no exception. He desperately wanted Hermione to realize she needed help but he knew he had said all he could and she needed to decide for herself.

He took a few steps towards the Quaffle, picking it up and drop-kicking it off the laces of his shoe. It traveled an impressive distance.

" _Accio Quaffle_ ," Draco commented with a lazy wave of his wand, unable to be bothered with walking all the way to retrieve it.

The cool night wind tore through his hair, and Draco was grateful for the harsh, unrelenting feel of it. He looked to the black night sky, dotted with silver stars. Instinctively, Draco sought out the constellation that was his namesake, an old habit, finding the dragon with little effort. There had always been something comforting about seeing his constellation looking down on him.

Draco sighed, bending to pick up the Quaffle once more. Taking careful aim and with considerably more effort, he kicked the ball towards the Keepers' hoops at the end nearest him. While his aim was true, the distance had fallen short. Draco summoned the ball once more but left it to simply lay on the ground.

A distant thunderclap roared through the sky and it began to rain. Draco stood as he was, allowing the cold raindrops to soak through his shirt and drench his hair.

Scorpius had been over on the weekend and when the boy had asked after Hermione, Draco had felt a boulder to the chest, not having the heart to answer. He had not had his son over since, despite having a day off. He had told Astoria he was otherwise detained and she had accepted it without question.

Frustrated, he threw the Quaffle as far as he could.

Facing his life without her had come to feel like a heavy burden, drawing the light and laughter from his days. He knew how absolutely gaudy the sentiment was, but nonetheless believed it to be true. He had never cared for anyone like this, for essentially this reason. But he had fallen too hard and too fast to have been able to turn the inevitable tide in any other direction.

Soaked and with an involuntary shiver in the cold air, Draco Apparated home.

All he could do was hope that he was to be swept back to her.


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note:** Well, chapter 19 friends. I'm so extremely grateful for the continued support on this fic. Only a couple more now. I hope you continue to enjoy.

Hugs to LadyChocolateLover for inspiring a detail in this chapter I was undecided on in a review a few chapters ago. And for all the love.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

Hermione jumped at a knock at her office door as she was packing up to Apparate home at the end of the day that Thursday, her mind having been entirely caught up elsewhere.

"Come in," she called, musing at who it could be. Mandy, perhaps; the two hadn't visited in a while.

The door swung open and Theo Nott burst through, looking panicked. Instantly Hermione's senses rose to high alert as she met the man's gaze.

"Is it Astoria?" she asked.

"Yes," Theo nodded, "she's at home. Can you come?"

"Of course," Hermione said shortly. Theo glanced curiously at her then quickly looked away.

"I appreciate it," he said. As they walked to the Apparition point, Theo explained the situation. "It isn't like last time but she's been generally lethargic all day and just a few minutes ago she had to lay down, claiming she had no energy and her whole body was sore. By the time I left she could scarcely lift her head."

"Almost like she's shutting down," Hermione murmured to herself and Theo paled. "How is the potion coming along?"

"I've kept it under observation for a month now, and the curse began re-appearing two days ago; it's almost fully saturated now," Theo explained.

"A month is better than I had hoped for," Hermione said quietly.

"Same," Theo agreed, as they arrived at the Apparition point. "Take my arm, I'll get you through the wards."

Almost instantaneously as Hermione touched a hand to Theo's elbow, he Apparated them both directly to Nott Estates, into the room where Astoria was resting.

Hermione could see Daphne playing with Scorpius in the next room, though the blonde was distractedly peering into the room with a look of concern on her face.

"Hermione," Astoria breathed as she noticed the new arrival, "it's wonderful to see you." A serene smile slipped onto the woman's face. Hermione felt suddenly self conscious of the way she must have appeared but brushed it off.

"You as well, Astoria," Hermione returned, smiling. In an aside to Theo she asked, "have you given her anything?"

"Calming draught," he replied in a low voice, looking strained as he stared at Astoria, "and pain elixir."

"You ought to retrieve a vial of the potion," Hermione said, "we will likely need to try it."

Theo reached into his pocket, drawing a small vial full of a shimmering silver solution. Hermione stared at him, tilting her head as she carefully took the vial.

"I've been carrying it for weeks, just in case," Theo permitted.

Just then Hermione's heart dropped into her stomach and her heart flew into her throat as a familiar flash of platinum blond came into the room. Briefly she met Draco's eyes as he looked worriedly to the occupants of the room in turn, lingering just a moment longer on Hermione.

Hermione noticed Theo discreetly turn away. Hermione had suspected Draco would have told Theo they had been going through a rough time, given that the two were best mates, and this confirmed it.

She bit her lip as Draco drew a chair to Astoria's bedside, taking the woman's pale hand in his. She smiled the same nondescript, hazy smile she had given Hermione as Draco spoke to her for a minute, soft enough that Hermione couldn't make out what he was saying and she didn't attempt to, allowing them a moment of privacy.

Draco gave her hand a squeeze as he rose from his seat, walking to stand between Hermione and Theo. Just the scent of him, after what felt like so long, after the week she had had, was nearly enough to bring tears to her eyes.

Pushing the thoughts to the back of her mind for the time being, Hermione approached Astoria and prepared the vial.

"Do I finally get to try the potion?" the girl asked, her voice weak and hoarse.

"Yes," Hermione merely replied, with a glance to Theo and Draco. Both looked equally apprehensive but resigned. Hermione suspected they all realized the potion was their best shot, given the way Astoria's condition had so greatly deteriorated so rapidly.

Hermione prepared Astoria for an injection, thinking it would be the best chance of placing the potion directly into her bloodstream. Hermione's breath hitched as she injected the vein, releasing the solution into the witch.

There was no reaction at first but for Astoria's eyes to flutter shut as if she had simply fallen asleep. Hermione exhaled heavily, catching a tear that had threatened to fall as she stepped back alongside Draco. She nearly choked on a sob as she felt his hand come to her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. She grasped his hand with her opposite one, relieved when he didn't pull away.

The simple touch was enough to ground her as the three of them stood in the room, Theo wringing his hands, Daphne hovering anxiously in the doorway as Scorpius continued to play in the next room, for what felt like an age.

Finally Astoria's eyelids began to twitch, quickly and Theo instantly rushed to her side. Her fingertips started to flutter, her body vibrating subconsciously as the potion spread through her bloodstream.

Within minutes, her body settled against the bed once more, her eyes sliding open. She flexed her hands, sitting up. She fixed Hermione with an incredulous stare and without further delay, she stood from the bed. Theo jumped to take told of her arm but she delicately withdrew it from his grasp.

"How do you feel?" Hermione asked as the woman approached.

"I feel great," Astoria whispered, brow furrowed as a watery smile overtook her face, tears pouring from her eyes as she grasped Hermione into an embrace. Hermione found herself crying, too, as the woman released her and moved to Theo, sobbing into his shoulder, beyond words.

Gently, Hermione lifted Astoria's arm and performed a blood diagnostic spell, nodding quickly at Theo's inquisitive look, permitting a small smile. Then she retreated back alongside Draco once more as Daphne flew into the room as well, taking hold of Astoria.

"You're so brilliant," Draco murmured in her ear and Hermione glanced at him, feeling a sudden case of nerves now that the panic had subsided, her heart pounding at the sight of him so close.

"Theo did most of it," she muttered, taken aback.

"You both figured it out," Draco replied, "but it was your idea to even try. Her life will be forever changed, as will the lives of my best mate and my son. So thank you."

Hermione turned to him, meeting his serious gaze, feeling a tentative smile slip across her lips.

Theo returned to Hermione's other side, Astoria and Daphne now clinging to one another and sobbing through a barely audible conversation.

"Thank you, Hermione," Theo said, still staring at the two women. "Truly, I can never thank you enough."

He held out a hand formally, but Hermione disregarded it, pulling him into a hug instead. Draco's sharp laughter lit her soul as she drew away from the dark-haired man who looked flushed.

"Just monitor it, yeah? So you'll learn the optimal time to deliver the solution into her system again," Hermione commented.

"Yes, of course," Theo agreed, nodding, "and I wanted you both to have the recipe, just in case." He handed each Draco and Hermione a sheet of parchment. Hermione carefully folded hers up and tucked it in a pocket.

Draco excused himself, walking over to speak with Astoria once the hysterics between the two sisters had died down.

"How is your other research coming along?" Theo asked, in what Hermione could only surmise was an attempt at polite conversation.

"Not great, to be honest. It should be working, but something is preventing us from moving forward," Hermione said, biting her lip in consternation. "It's quite frustrating."

Theo stood in quiet contemplation for a moment.

"It could be something you'd least expect," he said softly. "Years ago, I was working on the development of a significant potion with a team and we had made countless attempts; we firmly believed we had the formula correct but it just wasn't working. Almost by accident, we came to realize the potion was reacting poorly with the dust particles in the air. An uncontrolled, external stimulus was corrupting our results almost entirely. Once we realized this, we were able to brew the potion in a controlled environment and it was perfect. Just something to consider."

"How did you realize that?" Hermione asked out of curiosity.

"The window was left open," Theo said, lips twitching. "When a gust of wind came in and destroyed the potion, we worked it out from there."

"Huh. An external stimulus," Hermione repeated, tilting her head thoughtfully. "That's an interesting consideration indeed."

"I do hope you figure it out," Theo said, with a glance to Draco and Hermione wasn't certain what exactly he was referring to. "And when you do, it'll be worth the trials."

He didn't know the half of it, Hermione thought, but she smiled and thanked him anyway. Draco had wandered back at some point during their conversation and Hermione felt suddenly awkward as Theo walked away, leaving them alone.

"I have a match in an hour," Draco announced to the room at large, "so I can't be staying too long."

Hermione turned to him, her heart beginning to race. She wasn't certain the next time she would be able to see him if she didn't seize the opportunity.

"Did you get my letter?" she blurted, meeting his molten gaze. He stared at her for a long moment, unblinking. He reached into his back pocket, drawing a ragged sheet of parchment that looked as if it had been folded and unfolded repeatedly.

"I received your letter," he commented softly, looking away. "If you are leaving soon, I will walk you beyond the wards." Hermione nodded, her teeth digging into her lower lip almost painfully.

The two of them shared their goodbyes with the rest of the room, Scorpius waving excitedly from his mother's lap now. The boy was too young to understand the gravity of the situation that had transpired but it warmed her heart all the same.

Draco shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked and Hermione could read him well enough to know it was a nervous habit. He didn't speak for several minutes as they walked across the darkening grounds, the sun setting beautifully ahead of them.

"Look, Hermione," he finally said with a sigh. Hermione noticed he still held the folded letter she had sent him a few days prior. "This is nice, but if it's just words –"

"It isn't," she hastened to say, "I've thought extensively on what you said and you were right. I can't keep holding this all in and I _do_ want to talk about it. And I never meant for you to feel as if I don't trust you fully."

"You don't need to talk to me if it makes you uncomfortable," he said with a shrug.

"I've considered that, too," Hermione said softly, "and I've made an appointment with a mind healer next week."

"Actually?" he asked, eyes brightening. His brow knit together as he turned to look at her.

"But," Hermione continued, "a mind healer won't understand what I went through like you will. We may have been on different sides, but we both faced the war from the inside. We experienced the same struggles, the same pain and heartache, and I want you to understand where I'm at, and why this has been so difficult for me to face. I want to share everything with you, Draco."

Her voice broke slightly at the last and he simply stared at her, eyes wide and brow furrowed. He stepped closer, taking her face in one hand. His gaze told her he wanted to believe her. He stopped, just beyond the edge of the Nott wards. Hermione simply stared back, transfixed.

Hermione was suddenly and vividly reminded of something she had said to Narcissa Malfoy at Twilfitt and Tattings. _He is... what I didn't realize I needed._ She knew now, that he was what she could not live _without_.

"Come over tomorrow," he breathed, "I'll be home by five."

"I'm done at six," she returned.

"Perfect," Draco said. He made a face, looking almost apologetic. "I've got to get to the pitch. We are traveling to Wimbourne."

"Tomorrow," Hermione repeated, and it felt like a quiet promise. "Good luck."

"Thanks," he murmured, "we'll need it." After a moments' consideration, he leaned in, dropping a lingering ghost of a kiss to Hermione's jaw and as he pulled away, he was gone.

Excitement mixed with apprehension coursing through her, Hermione Apparated herself home.

* * *

That night as Hermione lay in bed, she tossed restlessly, her mind a flurry of activity. She dreamed, not of the war or Bellatrix or any of the other usual nightmares, but of results just beyond reach.

Theo's words raced about her mind; _it could be something you'd least expect._ While the answers danced in the distance, Hermione sought to chase them, coming up empty every time. She felt so close she could taste it.

When she awoke, eyes wide and feeling surprisingly refreshed, the thoughts continued to race. What was she missing? What was she simply not seeing? Was it something so banal and obvious, but just too mundane to have caught on to, like had been the case with Theo and his potion?

It was almost enough to distract her brain from the fact that she would be seeing Draco later that evening. She knew what she wanted to – needed to – say to him, but she didn't know how. The thoughts were all a jumble but she had learned, over the past week, that she would spill it all if that's what it took to help her confront the hurt and the heartache between them.

He was simply too vital to her. The idea of causing him any further hurt inspired a deep, significant pain in her chest.

All that day, as Hermione forged ahead with Kenneth's treatment, her mind felt completely at odds with her activity. _What was she missing?_ As she observed every step of the process, as they had been doing for weeks, she felt the answers dancing once more just out of sight.

"I feel as if we're missing something obvious, something just out of reach," she confessed to her co-researchers, Healers Squall and Grant.

"I agree," Healer Squall said, her shoulders slumping. "But what?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted, rubbing her temples. Something Nott had said was niggling her brain. _An uncontrolled, external stimulus was corrupting our results almost entirely._ "Do you think something external could be affecting our research?"

"External, how?" Healer Grant asked. "Like Kenneth's environment?"

"Maybe," Hermione said, thoughtful. Her mind began to race. "Some external... stimulus. His environment is very controlled already. But what if something else is getting in, before, after, during? Something negatively impacting our efforts. For every step forward we take, something is setting us back that same step."

"It could be more controlled," Healer Squall said slowly and Hermione turned to the woman. "We haven't taken absolutely every precaution to prevent outside influence from getting in. The room is sterile but not controlled for temperature and humidity; Kenneth is sedated but what if he was asleep or unconscious?"

"There are ways to control all of that," Hermione said, her thoughts flying now, bouncing off of her colleague's observations, "to control _everything_. Have we been overlooking something simple that could be so important?"

"We have to be," Healer Grant announced, "or we would have seen greater results by now. We are all in agreeance this _should_ be working!"

"Yes," Hermione murmured, "it should but it isn't."

"We can take those steps we've just discussed in advance of his next session on Monday," Healer Squall offered, "and see if it helps and go from there? Eliminate as much external stimulus as possible?"

"How do we remove it all?" Hermione murmured, gazing curiously at the desk around which they stood. "We further control the environment; he has to be unconscious – it's the best way to access his system unhindered."

"We can do that," Healer Grant said, taking notes on the discussion.

Hermione continued to stare at the desk. She lifted and absently fidgeted with a quill, then on a whim, dropped it back to the desk. The quill was light with an extravagant feather and it descended slower than she expected. Her eyes widened as she turned to her colleagues.

"His body, his nervous system, is taking in everything during the treatment," she said slowly, "what if there was nothing to take in _but_ the treatment? We need to build him a perfect chamber of _nothing_."

"No gravity," Healer Squall said, catching on instantly, Healer Grant nodding along anxiously.

"Suspension," Healer Grant agreed. "If we can suspend him we can keep all physical stimuli out."

"Yes," Hermione breathed, thankful to have intelligent colleagues. Her heart was racing. "We need to try it on Monday."

"We can prepare a room in advance of his next session," Healer Grant said, gesturing to Healer Squall. "Not to say it will definitively work, of course."

"Of course," Hermione said, her breath catching momentarily, Healer Squall agreeing as well. It wasn't a guarantee, but it was the first breakthrough they had made in weeks. At this point, Hermione was willing to give anything a shot.

* * *

Hermione steeled her nerves as she prepared to Apparate to Draco's house. She had brought a change of clothes to St. Mungo's so she could go straight over from work. The excitement of the day had quelled her worries for a while but they all came flooding back in as she stood at the Apparition point.

Before she could get too caught up in an internal debate, Hermione spun on the spot and was gone.

"Hi," Draco said, glancing up from the _Evening Prophet_ he had been reading. He stood, walking over to Hermione, dropping the post on the kitchen table. "How was your day?"

"It was quite good, actually," she admitted with a small smile.

"That's good," he replied, surprise colouring his tone.

Hermione opened her mouth, about to spill all the details of her day and what her team had discovered, but she instead closed it once more.

"I'm not here to talk about work," she said, her voice suddenly sounding quite small and serious. "I meant what I said yesterday, Draco, you made me realize I need to open up about that day and I want it to be with you."

"Tell me about your day later, then," he said, eyes sparkling. "But first – are you hungry?"

"Ravenous," she admitted, biting her lip.

"Good, because I cooked," he said with a smirk.

"You cooked?" she questioned, eyebrow quirked.

"Paris cooked," he amended, looking away from her gaze, "but I said she could make whatever she felt like." Hermione rolled her eyes and Draco grinned. "I've missed having an elf, alright?"

"I'm going to let it go, only because I know you've been treating Paris impeccably well," Hermione said softly.

As it turned out, Paris had decided to cook an extravagant meal of four courses; a delicious butternut squash soup, a fresh salad of greens and a roast with vegetables, followed by the most decadent cake Hermione thought she had ever tasted.

They made small talk over dinner, far too preoccupied with the amazing meal to discuss anything of too much depth. But following dinner, they re-located to the couch with a glass of wine, which helped calm Hermione's nerves.

As she stared at Draco, his grey eyes melting into hers, she found that she would do anything to keep from losing him. So she began.

She started with the Horcruxes – Harry's private training with Dumbledore, and the mission the three of them had decided to undertake. The wedding, and how things had gone so terribly wrong, how they had been forced to flee. Their run-in with Rowle and Dolohov on Tottenham Court Road. The time they spent at Grimmauld Place, plotting the break-in at the Ministry, wherein they stole the real locket Hocrux.

She shared with him the despair of being on the run, of traveling from one place to the next with no idea of how to destroy the Horcrux they had or how to find the others. How helpless they had felt, the way they had gone to bed hungry more often than not, the heartbreak when Ron left. Her vivid recollections of the night her and Harry had gone to Godric's Hollow – and had barely escaped with their lives. How she could still recall running up the stairs to see Harry fighting that awful snake.

Draco was a gracious audience, reacting in all the right places, empathizing and even laughing, when the moment called for it. But he didn't speak or interrupt, he merely listened, his eyes focused on her.

"By the time we were captured, we had destroyed the locket, but hadn't located the rest of the Horcruxes," she explained. "I cast a spell to make Harry unrecognizable." Draco nodded, remembering.

Hermione paused, sorting through old memories she had done her best to push aside for years.

"When she had me, Draco," she said, biting her lip. Draco's hand found itself entwined with hers. "It was pain unlike I had ever experienced, for one. But I felt so incredibly... hopeless." She glanced to him but he merely gazed back, his expression open and honest.

"I lost track of time," she continued, "but I just recall... I was ready to give up, Draco. I _did_ give up. I was just... waiting to die. I knew it was cowardly and shameful and I knew how badly Harry and Ron needed me to keep going but..." she trailed off. She didn't meet his gaze.

"I started to think that maybe we would just be better off, if it was all just over," she continued after a long moment. She took a deep breath. "Selfishly, I was ready to give up, after everything we had been through, the hurt and the struggle and the despair. Never knowing when we would eat, if we would be captured, if we would _ever_ get to where we needed to be.

"I was ready to die, to give it all up, to leave Harry and Ron alone, when I needed to be strong for them," she said, her eyes slipping shut. "That I gave her that much power over me, that I would have sooner been dead than to continue facing the world, to rid our world of people like _her_ is so shameful."

Her eyes opened and she finally met his gaze again. She stared blankly, imploringly, lost of words.

"Hermione," Draco murmured, rubbing her hand. "Never be ashamed of yourself. You fought so much harder than most people, you dealt with so much."

He paused, head tilted. "Do you know why the curse affected you like that?"

Hermione shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

"Because you have such a beautiful, pure heart," he continued. "It drives into the spirit, the soul of a person, and pushes down the light, drawing out the dark. You would have been a prime target, Hermione, because there is so much light in you. Surely you've realized the curse is not simply physical, but emotional. That _torture_ itself is emotional just as much as it is physical, if not more."

Hermione sat silently, absorbing his words. Draco leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers for a moment before drawing back.

"Merlin, Hermione, you weren't cowardly or selfish or shameful," he said, "the courage you showed in continuing on – even after she had been at you so long – even _if_ you felt like giving in. You didn't." He met her eyes. "You _didn't_ , Hermione. You faced that line and you pushed through it, you hung on by a thread, even if you didn't know it. You don't even realize how much I admired you for that."

Hermione felt the tears begin to push from her eyes as she gasped, her mind flying into overdrive at his words. She nodded, his words sinking in like a welcome reprieve from the years of nightmares, the years of being afraid to share what she had felt with Harry and Ron for fear they would judge her, because they hadn't gone through the same thing.

She collapsed into him, feeling the fear and the shame flow from her as a rain of catharsis, burying her face in his chest as he ran a hand along her spine, drawing her closer.

"You were so much braver than you know," Draco murmured into her hair. And she clung to him for several long minutes before she pulled away, wiping her eyes, feeling embarrassed until she met his smile.

"Thank you," she whispered, unable to say anything more. He pressed a kiss to her forehead in response.

"So," Draco said after a moment, "To be honest, I'm fairly invested in this story now. Did _you_ have the real sword or did Bellatrix?"

"We had it; the one in Bellatrix's vault was a fake given to the Lestranges by Snape," she said, feeling now more interested in sharing the rest of the story with him. "Her extreme reaction over it was why we suspected one of the other Horcruxes was in her vault to begin with, actually. And we were right, Hufflepuff's goblet was in there..."

"... and the dragon?" he asked some time later.

"The dragon was old and blind and fearsome," Hermione said with a smile, "and we helped it escape."

"Took half of Gringotts with you," he muttered, grinning.

"Served them right, keeping the poor creature down there," Hermione admonished and Draco laughed. He stared at her for a long moment before the grin faded from his face.

"Thanks for sharing with me," he said softly. "And I'm sorry I didn't reach out sooner."

"Thanks for pushing me," she said with a small smile. "But you leaving forced me to come to terms with the truth. I couldn't see it, before."

"I hated seeing you like that," he admitted. "Now that I know what you've been struggling with, I can help, if you ever need me to."

Paris appeared, silently filling their wine glasses and vanished again with a knowing smile.

"Apparently you're staying," Draco said, amused. "And look." He waved with a flourish to a television on the far wall that Hermione hadn't originally noticed when they sat down.

"You got a TV," she mused, looking to him, incredulous.

"Turns out Theo is very good at making electronics work in magical homes," Draco said with a shrug. "Would you like to watch a mo _vie_?"

The way he emphasized the second syllable of movie had Hermione giggling as he stared blankly, confused.

"Have you got popcorn as well?"


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note:** Friends, this is it. We've come to the end of this journey. I want to thank every single person who has read, reviewed, followed or favourited this story. I've never seen a response like this to a fic and it's been humbling, exciting, and wonderful. Thank you so much for believing in my vision for this story.

I would love to hear your thoughts. Reviews have kept this story fueled and I am so grateful for that.

I will soon be posting a short eighth year Dramione mini-fic, maybe 3 parts or so, and I have a couple longer length Dramione fics in the works as well. If you're interested in reading more from me, please drop a follow.

xoxo always, Cait.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

Hermione exhaled a deep breath as she left the closed ward on Monday afternoon. She leaned back against the wall, allowing her breathing to normalize before continuing on to catch the lift to her office.

Healers Squall and Grant had prepared the treatment room for Kenneth's most recent round of therapy as the three of them had discussed on Friday. It was too soon to tell whether the changes had caused any positive results, but Hermione couldn't help feeling the slightest modicum of hope.

All of her research, both magical and Muggle, had Hermione believing that the treatment – Muggle nerve treatments tempered with magical healing spells – was following the correct path, and Hermione hoped fervently that the adjustments they made might show some form of results.

"Alright, Healer Granger?" Healer McTavish asked as he arrived at the lift alongside Hermione.

"Quite well, thank you," she responded with a glance at the man. "And you?"

"If it isn't one thing, it's another, you know how it is," the man said and Hermione noted he looked tired. But then he cracked a smile.

The lift arrived and they both stepped inside, waiting silently as the lift began to move.

"Sir," Hermione said, breaking the heavy silence. "I apologize for my behaviour the other day."

"It's quite alright, Healer Granger," McTavish said softly. "I understand your research has been giving you a lot of undue stress."

"Yes, well," Hermione said, feeling a flush creep to her cheeks. "I wanted you to know that I will be meeting with a mind healer. My first appointment is tomorrow."

McTavish was silent for a long moment as he gave Hermione a calculating gaze. Finally he sighed as the lift arrived on the seventh floor and they both exited into the corridor.

"I am glad to hear it, Healer Granger," he said. "I believe you have been carrying a burden far heavier than should be required of you. Please be sure you look after yourself."

"Thank you, Healer McTavish. Take care," Hermione replied as they parted ways.

She walked the distance to her office, thinking once more about the potential repercussions that could be derived from their research. She absently unlocked the door and walked into her office before realizing her wards were down. Glancing up in surprise, she noticed Draco in her office.

"How did you get through my wards?" she inquired mildly.

"They're the same as the wards you put on your flat," he reminded her with a shrug. "I wanted to see how your day went."

"It went as well as could be expected," Hermione said. "We won't have the results until tomorrow, and even then it might take more sessions to determine if this new method will work or not."

"Good," Draco said softly, meeting her eyes, "then let's set it aside until tomorrow. I'm taking you to dinner." He took her hand. "I've missed you."

"I was over on Friday," she said, feeling somehow breathless.

"Even so," he said lightly, planting a kiss to her forehead. Hermione suspected he wasn't referring to the two days on the weekend they had spent apart; she had missed him too.

Her lips met his and he pulled her closer, one hand playing with the neckline of her robes before she pulled back, clutching a handful of his shirt.

"Dinner," she reminded him and he smirked.

"Dinner," he agreed, "though, before you arrived, I was considering that potions bench of yours."

Hermione's eyes widened, her heart beginning to race. She glanced behind her to the bench she had thought of many times.

"Dinner can wait a bit, I think."

* * *

The next day Hermione met her mind healer, a man named Healer Fawley. She had chosen him specifically because he was merely an acquaintance and someone she had nothing more than a working relationship with. By and large, mind healers rarely interacted with physical healers.

He was also older than her, an age where he had largely been uninvolved with and distanced enough from the war that their sessions were unlikely to be affected by his own impressions and knowledge of her.

She had left the appointment emotionally raw and overwrought but oddly relieved, in much the same way that her conversation with Draco had lifted a weight she hadn't been aware she'd been carrying off.

She had shared with him her experiences during the war, the adversaries she had faced, both physically and mentally.

Healer Fawley had been wholly attentive, impartial and Hermione found she quite appreciated his demeanour. The man had gone on to give her some initial suggestions of how to deal with the anxiety when she felt it approach and she felt overall, the first session had been beneficial.

It was odd, when she considered how nervous the idea had made her, whereas the experience itself was certainly anti-climactic. She actually found herself almost anticipating the next session, where they would be delving further into ways for Hermione to deal with her anxiety and other emotional struggles.

Following her appointment was her research period and she found that every step toward the closed ward brought closer to the forefront the idea that the results from yesterday's session would either provide a breakthrough unlike any they had so far achieved, or they would be back to square one.

She edged her way into the ward, facing the familiar chaos that she was now at least used to. She located Healer Scott who handed Hermione the file of the latest nerve scans.

"What do you reckon?" she asked the woman, teeth gnashing her lower lip nervously.

"I haven't looked at it yet," Healer Scott said quietly, though she was looking at the folder with a certain intensity. "Thought I would wait until you got here."

"Okay," Hermione said, noticing the slight tremble to her hands. She made to open the file then hesitated. "I mean, if there's no change, we just keep at it, right?"

"Just open it," Healer Scott interrupted her anxious babbling. Hermione nodded quickly.

She opened the file, flipping rapidly to the page of his latest nerve scans following the treatment session the day before. She drew the scan out, setting the file on a desk.

As she observed the scan, a soft exclamation left her throat. She laid the scan down and Healer Scott also gasped. Hermione quickly placed the initial scan, followed by the last scan from the previous week alongside. While the two older scans were virtually the same, the current scan showed the stress in Kenneth's nervous system as vastly diminished.

"Healer Scott..." Hermione trailed off, her voice weak.

"It worked," the woman said, staring at the sheets with reverence.

"I can't believe it," Hermione said, head shaking slightly. "I actually can't."

Just then Healers Squall and Grant walked into the office to meet Hermione and Healer Scott. Healer Squall gasped, a hand flying to her mouth as she rushed to closer observe the scans.

"Sweet Merlin," Healer Grant murmured, running a hand through his hair. "There's actually improvement there."

Hermione simply nodded, eyes wide. The simple fact that one scan to the next showed such a change when for months there had been next to nothing was almost beyond her comprehension. As understanding sunk in, a smile crept to her features. They were _finally_ seeing the results they had hoped for all along and now, Hermione hoped, it would simply be a matter of time.

* * *

A week later, Draco invited Hermione to his house for a small celebration of her twenty-seventh birthday. Which as it turned out, was not particularly small at all.

Hermione looked around his sitting room, eyes wide as she took in the large group that had assembled. She said hello to Astoria, Theo and Scorpius, and moved on in surprise to see Harry and Ginny, Mandy, Blaise and Daphne. Even Narcissa and Andromeda were in attendance, with Teddy Lupin.

Paris had clearly outdone herself, with the most deluxe spread Hermione thought she had ever seen, including the many years of feasts at Hogwarts. There were plates of meats and cheeses and fruits and soups and salads and a mountain of deserts – Hermione didn't suspect she could even begin to try everything.

"This is incredible," she stated, turning to Draco, brow furrowed. "But how did you manage all this without me finding out?"

"Slytherin," he said with a roll of the eyes and a smirk.

"Extremely!" she exclaimed, "and I like to consider myself to be fairly observant!"

"Well then, turn around," Draco murmured, dropping a kiss to her temple. "Happy birthday, Hermione."

As Hermione spun, it was as if her world suddenly stopped, her breath catching in her throat, her heart pounding furiously against her ribcage. Her hands flew to her mouth as tears sprang to the corners of her eyes.

There stood Patrick and Jean Granger, her wonderful parents whom she hadn't been to visit in Australia for close to a year.

It was a blur, but she found herself momentarily wrapped in each of them as she stared at them, baffled and bewildered to see them there in Draco's house. She looked back at Draco in disbelief and he was simply smirking in that irritating sort of way she had grown to love so much.

"You did this," she said, eyebrows raised.

"Potter helped," Draco admitted.

"I only told him how to find them," Harry interrupted and there was a small chorus of laughter.

"I can't believe you're here," Hermione said, turning back to her parents. She laid a hand on each of them, as if to prove they were actually in front of her.

"That's quite the boyfriend you've got yourself," Jean Granger said in an undertone.

"I know," Hermione murmured with a smile. "How long are you staying?"

"We came via Portkey," Patrick Granger announced, looking pleased with himself. "Draco said it will return us to Brisbane in a week."

"A week," Hermione repeated, feeling suddenly as if they had so much to catch up on. "You'll stay at my flat, of course?"

Draco appeared at her side, nudging her shoulder.

"We can make it two weeks, if you prefer," he said softly. The Grangers lit up at the prospect.

"Make it two, please," Hermione said, smiling.

* * *

 _ooo_

* * *

It had been six months since Hermione and her team had corrected the problem with Kenneth's treatment. Six months since the absolute heart-bursting comprehension had dawned that they were _truly_ able to help those poor souls in the Janus Thickey ward. Since the healers of the ward had seen hope come into existence for the first time.

Five months since Kenneth had come to Hermione upon being discharged from the hospital, tears pouring from his eyes, his mouth open to speak with no words. He had merely grasped her and Hermione embraced him, feeling her own tears break forth as over his shoulder, she saw his parents, holding one another, silent tears also streaming down their cheeks.

Five months since the treatments had expanded to other patients, as Hermione and Healers Squall and Grant completed the report on Kenneth, passing it off to the other healers of the ward so the work might go faster in duplication.

It was three months prior that the ward started to feel significantly emptier, the healers less outnumbered than they had once been. The emotions Hermione felt upon visiting the closed ward had turned from despair and hopelessness to faith and an excited sort of disbelief. It was _actually working_. Patients who had spent years – _decades_ – within these white walls were going _home_.

Hermione often had to stop and breathe. The techniques she had learned from Healer Fawley in managing her stress and anxiety had proved immensely helpful over the previous months. She had stayed on with the mind healer, past the bulk of the emotional issues she had had to work through, simply because she found sharing her burdens kept her grounded.

It had been six weeks since Hermione had finished tying up the loose ends on her research, presenting her completed report with successful results on numerous patients who had suffered and recovered from the Cruciatus curse. She had seen the reactions of the hospital directors and the chief healers, as they listened in disbelief and shock to her presentation, watching as Healers McTavish and Scott beamed at Hermione and proudly assured them it was all true.

And over the past six weeks, her report had made it into the hands of healers across Europe, the Americas and elsewhere. Hermione could scarcely believe it.

And one month had passed since Draco had suggested Hermione move in to the house at Aylesbury, given she was spending the vast majority of her time there anyway. He had smiled, a nervous but excited glint in his eye as they worked together to move her possessions in and her heart jumped in the most amazing way when he had told her "welcome home."

She had known without a doubt, that never in her life had she loved anyone like she loved Draco. He had been her rock through so much – and had given her the hard jolt she had needed to sort through her past.

Two weeks ago Hermione had learned the hospital would be presenting her with an award for outstanding contributions in healing. She had been humbled and entirely grateful for the honour. Graciously, Hermione had requested Narcissa assist her in shopping for a gown. Flustered, the woman had immediately accepted.

* * *

Then the night of the awards presentation dinner had arrived and Hermione sat patiently through Narcissa's stylist preparing her for the evening without complaint.

"You do know how proud of you I am, don't you?" Draco murmured as he took her arm and Apparated them both to the function hall. She merely flung her arms around him in response.

Hermione wasn't sure what she had been expecting but she was taken aback at the sight of some hundred and fifty people in attendance – healers, friends, patients and family of the patients whose lives had been affected. She was suddenly very thankful the stylist had used waterproof eye makeup. She swallowed heavily as she noticed, across the hall, Neville sitting with his parents, who were not yet completely through their treatments but significantly improved. He grinned and waved happily as she met his gaze and she smiled widely in return.

Healer McTavish had been the one to introduce Hermione and present her with the award, which he did so with ringing pride in his voice. Hermione was touched at the way he edified her and her research.

She was to give a small speech, and found herself extremely nervous as she stood before the crowd, despite the fact that she had faced far more intimidating situations in the course of her life. But then she had glanced to the side, seeing Harry grinning at her, his hair messy as always, Ginny beside him rocking their sleeping baby boy, James. She had smiled and begun.

She spoke briefly about her report, the research that had gone into it, her introductions into the chaotic world of the closed ward. The way she had grown attached to Kenneth and the other patients. In the crowd, Kenneth had grinned widely, flushing.

She thanked her team, especially Healer Squall and Healer Grant for pushing through so many obstacles with her, Healer Scott for trusting her with so much freedom in the ward, and Healer McTavish for the understanding and faith he had provided in supporting her research.

And she thanked Draco, for his encouragement and belief, in the hard times and the good.

When she was done, the room had come to their feet and Hermione smiled, a blush rising to her cheeks, as she walked back to her seat. Draco had taken her hand, entwining their fingers, giving it a squeeze.

She met his eyes and a glance spoke the volumes between them.

* * *

Hermione glanced over to see Neville edging his way toward her sheepishly.

"Neville!" she cried, embracing her old schoolmate. "How are you? How's Hogwarts?" she asked.

"Hogwarts is good, of course," Neville said then paused, eyes wide as he took in Hermione's companion. "Er, hello Malfoy."

"Longbottom," Draco intoned with a tilt to his head.

"This is for you," Neville said, suddenly thrusting a strange, tall potted plant into Hermione's hands. He met her eyes, looking nervous. "Hermione, because of you and your selfless work, I have parents for the first time I can remember. There's no way I can ever properly thank you for that." He looked across the room to where Frank and Alice Longbottom were seated, both still looking a bit weak but they waved.

"Thank you, Neville," Hermione said, eyes welling with tears. Even Draco looked affected. She looked to the large plant in her hands. "What is it?"

"It's called a Brewacanthus," Neville stated then continued on at the two blank stares he received. "It's very rare and difficult to grow and can only be cultivated with the intent of an altruistic offering. It needed to be pruned every night at midnight for three months." Neville rubbed the back of his neck, looking unsure of his gift. "It's useful in potions brewing. If you provide it with any potion once, it will produce the ingredients required to make that potion indefinitely. I didn't know what else to give you."

"Wow, it's fascinating," Hermione said, eyeing the strange plant. Draco took it from her, looking closely at it. "Thanks, Neville! But you certainly didn't need to give me anything."

"I did," Neville contradicted, "because you've given me so much more."

Touched, Hermione simply rest a hand on his arm, feeling the relief and understanding pass through them like a wave.

* * *

"Healer Granger," Healer McTavish said, approaching Hermione and Draco as they were preparing to leave for the evening. He looked vastly different in his dress robes compared to the healer's robes Hermione ordinarily saw him in. "Have you got a moment?"

"Of course," Hermione replied, turning to her supervisor. "What is it?"

"Well, the St. Mungo's board have discussed your results at great length and I can't tell you how impressed the hospital directors are with your research methodology. It's become highly apparent that we can learn much from Muggle science." McTavish paused, looking between them. "I would ask that you might delay your next personal research project in exchange for taking on a new task for a period of time. Though you may say no."

"What's the task?" she asked, curious. McTavish was not ordinarily one to dance around a subject.

"We would ask you to work with the St. Mungo's administrators and chief healers to evaluate and modify the existing healer training curriculum. It seems the training program falls woefully short with regards to an understanding of human anatomy and Muggle medicine." Hermione realized McTavish was nervous.

"Of course," she breathed. "A chance to influence the learning of new healers? Absolutely. I'm honoured, sir."

"I'm glad to hear it," McTavish said, breathing a sigh of relief. "It's extremely important our healers are as prepared as possible. Have a nice night, Healer Granger. Mr. Malfoy."

Hermione turned to Draco after the man had walked away, jaw open in enthusiastic surprise, eyes wide. He smiled at her excitement.

"The healing curriculum!" she gasped, "can you believe that?"

"I can, congratulations," he murmured, wrapping his free arm around her, the other still holding the bizarre-looking Brewacanthus in its large clay pot. He pressed a lingering kiss to her jaw. "In fact, I don't think they could have found anyone better for the job than you."

"What an opportunity," she said, brow furrowed as a smile crept over her features.

"Indeed," Draco said, moving his hand to trace her cheekbone. "Well, Healer Granger, are you ready to go home?"

"Yes," she admitted, her insides tingling as they always did when she considered the house in Aylesbury to be her home. Draco walked her to the Apparation point and took them both home.

After Hermione removed her shoes and settled in, placing her award down carefully in the kitchen, she turned to inspect the Brewacanthus that Draco had set on the island. There was a small sprout growing at the base of the larger plant and Hermione conjured a smaller pot and soil, transplanting the sprout into it.

"For Astoria?" Draco observed, walking up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Yes," Hermione agreed absently as she went about her work. "It would certainly make things easier for her, wouldn't it?"

Draco nodded, pressing a kiss to her jawline.

"Always thinking of others," he teased but he was smiling. Then he sobered, tilting his head. He slowly spun her to face him. "It's one of the things I like the most about you."

"I like your cheesy lines," she said, eyes twinkling and he smirked. He stared at her for a long moment, silently, so extended that Hermione almost grew uncomfortable wondering what was on his mind.

"Do you want to know the best part of how we ended up together?" Draco asked, stepping closer. He was still smiling faintly.

"What's that?" she asked, her mouth suddenly dry.

"You never pretended to be something you weren't to impress me," he said, meeting her eyes with his intoxicating grey ones. "You never felt the need to be fake and overdone and I _knew_ it was never about money or my career or anything so shallow as that. You weren't trying to _prove_ yourself to be what you _thought_ I wanted."

He paused, his chin down as he wet his lips.

"I haven't had to question whether you meant the things you said," he went on, "and that meant more to me than anything, Hermione, I need you to know that."

"I feel the same way," Hermione murmured, taken aback at the sudden turn in the conversation. She laid a hand on his cheek, feeling the rough stubble beneath it. He lifted a hand to rest on hers, clasping it.

"I love you," he stated simply, his expression open and honest. Hermione's heart suddenly jumped in her chest.

"I... love you, too, Draco," she replied, confused.

"Hermione," he said, releasing her hand from his cheek and dropping it. He ran a hand through his hair, his other hand shoved in his pocket as was his nervous habit.

"Hermione," he repeated, drawing out every syllable of her name. Hermione raised an eyebrow, opening her mouth to speak when he dropped to one knee and drew his hand from his pocket, clutching a beautiful diamond ring.

Hermione's heart suddenly forgot to beat and then it was racing and she gasped, her eyes widening in disbelief.

"Make me the happiest man alive and marry me," he requested quickly, eyes wide, "please." The last word came out as a whisper.

"Yes," Hermione whispered instantly in response, repeating louder, "yes, of course, Draco."

"Thank Merlin," he muttered as he rose, taking her into her arms and crushing her lips with his. He pulled back and gently slid the ring onto her finger, his hands shaking ever so slightly. Then he stepped back, meeting her eyes.

Hermione gazed at him in awe, her brow furrowed, heart pounding in her chest. Then he grinned and she smiled, joy overtaking her entirely. She threw her arms around him and he pulled her closer and she closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of him and comprehending the moment.

Draco had become so much more to her than she had ever expected he would. He had become her best friend and confidant, her lover; he was there to help her through the dark times, however that looked at the time – and to laugh alongside her during the good times. Now he would be her husband; the thought made her heart burst all over again.

She realized, between the two of them, separately and together, they had been through so much that this was truly the path she chose whole-heartedly, knowing they could face anything and come out the other side, stronger.

She met his eyes once more, sparkling, and knew hers mirrored his. She envisioned a future where they would grow old and grey together and she so badly desired it.

To be at his side, Draco by hers, forever.

 _fin_


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note:** It was not my original intention to write an epilogue for this fic, and while many people liked the ending as it was, many others requested a glimpse into the future for our crew. So here it is; read if you choose. I truly hope you enjoy this bit of closure. Thanks for reading.

Self-plug because I can: I'm writing a new WIP called Chronos Historia. It's an eighth-year Dramione in which Draco and Hermione stumble across a portal and find themselves transported to the time of the founders and all that entails as they attempt to find their way back home. Give it a read if you're into that sort of thing.

Special thanks to LittleMissEighty-Sixed and Kyonomiko for their inspiration in bringing this epilogue to life. I gift you the house in Dover, and Kenneth, respectively.

 **Disclaimer:** I own no part in the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

 _Five years later_

"Healer Granger? Hermione?"

Hermione spun around at the sound of her name, the voice familiar, though she couldn't quite place it. She squinted into the sun, scanning the faces of passersby on the busy Diagon Alley high street. Suddenly she caught sight of a young man, navigating the crowd towards her, a wide grin on his face.

"Kenneth!" she exclaimed with surprise, her heart instantly welling with emotion at the sight of her former patient. She embraced him before drawing back, assessing him with a smile. "It's so wonderful to see you again! How have you been?"

"Really well," he responded, nodding, "truly, Healer Granger." He glanced down, flushing slightly. "Rather, Healer Malfoy, isn't it?"

"Yes," Hermione said, smiling, "it's Healer Malfoy now. But please, call me Hermione."

Even almost five years since Draco had proposed – four since they had wed – Hermione still found herself smiling at the thought of her husband and their life together.

"My parents will be thrilled to hear I've run into you," Kenneth carried on, "they still talk about you all the time, and the great work you've done in helping so many people."

"It was all worth it," Hermione said with sincerity, meeting the young man's eyes. She could scarcely reconcile him with the troubled young man she had met more than five years ago in the closed ward of St. Mungo's hospital.

Back when Kenneth had been prone to extreme mental breaks, a result of the Carrows' favoured usage of the Cruciatus curse during their brief time at Hogwarts.

"I've been following your research as a healer ever since," Kenneth admitted, "and you've actually inspired me to finish my NEWTs and become a healer myself! I start my training next month."

Hermione's jaw dropped in surprise and her brow furrowed. "That's amazing, Kenneth. I'm so proud of you."

"Well, I'll need to pass my training first," he joked but continued to smile absently. Hermione felt her heart fill with pride.

"You'll be great," she assured him. "I look forward to working with you." She thought for a moment, tilting her head towards him. "Kenneth, we're having a big do over at Aylesbury for Draco's birthday this Saturday. You ought to come."

"I'd love to," Kenneth said instantly. "Thanks so much for the invite. Would it be alright if I brought someone with me?"

Hermione smiled privately to herself for a moment before she nodded. "Of course it would."

* * *

"Scorpius, would you go find your sister, please?" Hermione asked, frazzled, as the boy wandered into the kitchen, his nose in a book. Scorpius looked up at her and smiled.

"Sure, Hermione. Which one?" he asked, carefully marking his page and closing the book.

"The one that lives here, please, Scorpius," Hermione said and despite herself, laughed as the boy shrugged.

"I never know, somedays. She was playing with Paris, last I saw," he said as he set the book down and walked across the kitchen toward the stairwell. "Hermione, is Talia coming over here today too?"

"Yes, she and your mum and Theo are coming over for your dad's birthday, remember?"

"Yes," Scorpius said, scrunching his nose, "but I don't like when she and Cass are together. They're so… loud."

"Young girls are like that," Hermione assured him with a snicker, "and they'll only get worse as they get older!"

"Great," Scorpius said and with a great dramatic eyeroll, left to find his three year old sister, Cassiopeia.

Hermione smiled as the boy walked away. It was nice having Scorpius around more often. Ever since Astoria had started managing the books for Theo's new apothecary, Scorpius had been spending more time with her and Draco. The boy had appreciated the arrangement and Draco had been thrilled. And, Hermione thought, it was nice for Cassiopeia to spend more time with her older brother.

Hermione shook her head, amused, as she looked down at her many lists. The guest list, the shopping list, the meal and appetizer plan. It had nearly all been taken care of and she would soon be able to relax and await the guests.

"Has Mistress finalized the menu for Master's party tonight?" Paris asked, popping unexpectedly into the kitchen.

"Yes," Hermione gasped, clutching her chest as she handed the elf the shopping list and a bag of coins. "Be sure to pick something out for yourself of course, won't you, Paris?"

"Of course, Mistress Hermione," Paris intoned. "Paris has saved enough for a small Golden Snitch charm, mistress. And Master Draco said he would attach it to Paris' bracelet."

The elf showed off the sparkly bangle, with numerous small charms already attached. It had been a gift to the elf from Draco, two years ago, for all the assistance Paris had provided with Cassiopeia as a newborn. Hermione supposed her own reaction to the offering probably hadn't hurt his ego any.

"It's very beautiful, Paris," Hermione beamed. "I'm so glad you're enjoying it."

"Is lovely, yes," Paris said, admiring her own extended wrist. "Paris will do the shopping now!" With a crack, she was gone.

Just then a blaze of energy flew into the room, in the form of a toddler with long, curly blonde hair. Scorpius followed along, a smile on his features.

"She was chasing the cat," he explained and Hermione laughed as she picked up the small girl. "When is dad going to be home?"

"Daddy home?" Cassiopeia exclaimed, her face lighting up. She started squirming and Hermione set her back down, watching absently as the girl started playing with some toys on the floor in the next room.

"Soon, Scorp," she said with a glance at the clock on the wall. "He said he would be back around four."

Scorpius nodded, satisfied and retrieved his book, settling down at the kitchen table to read.

* * *

Draco arrived home some time later, broom slung over his shoulder and hair disheveled from an afternoon of flying. Hermione caught his eyes, biting her lip at the smile he gave her as he put his broom away and walked over.

"How are the boys?" Hermione asked as he came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and hitching her tightly towards him.

"They're good," he responded, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Potter's team won, unfortunately."

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised that on your day off from Quidditch, you chose to play Quidditch," Hermione said, sinking into his familiar warmth.

"No, you shouldn't," he murmured, nuzzling her neck, grazing her pulse with his teeth.

"You should have a shower," Hermione breathed, even as she felt herself heating at his actions.

"You're right, I should," he murmured with a smirk, licking up her neck. Then he paused, drawing back. "Where are Scorp and Cass?"

"Sitting room," Hermione replied, turning to face him. "Scorp's watching her."

"Good," he growled, and in an instant he Apparated them both upstairs to the master suite, catching her lips with his. "Because you're joining me in the shower."

* * *

A few hours later the guests had all arrived and the gathering was in full swing.

Hermione talked softly with Astoria as they walked back to the kitchen where the bulk of the guests were, having put the two exhausted young girls, Cassiopeia and Talia, to bed in the former's room. The two girls were so close in age and friendship that they were a terror together.

Hermione glanced around the kitchen as Astoria drifted away to find Daphne. Sipping a glass of sparkling juice, she took a seat facing outward at the island to observe.

Draco was in the middle of what appeared to be some sort of raucous game with Harry, Ron, Neville, Blaise and Theo that involved shots of Firewhisky and a potted plant.

Ginny and Susan Bones, Ron's extraordinarily pregnant fiancée, were deep in conversation, while Narcissa and Andromeda were filling plates from the food table. Hermione's heart swelled to see Kenneth and his pretty girlfriend, Adrianna, nodding politely at something Luna was saying. Kenneth caught Hermione's eye across the room and grinned.

In the adjacent sitting room, Teddy Lupin appeared to be regaling Scorpius of tales at Hogwarts. Scorpius was listening, utterly transfixed; Hermione smiled, knowing how excited Scorpius was to attend Hogwarts the following year.

She always marveled at the way her friends and Draco's had integrated seamlessly – even Ron, though he had taken a bit longer.

The drinking game dispersed and Draco walked over, giving Hermione a smirk.

"Happy birthday," Hermione murmured, smiling up at him. "Are you having fun?"

"Yes, thank you," he replied, lips grazing her cheek.

"Are you drunk?" she asked teasingly.

"Not too bad," he responded, taking a seat at the island beside her, his eyes sparkling. "Yet. Did you and Astoria put the girls to bed already?" At Hermione's nod he smiled. "Those two are quite something together. They'll be inseparable at Hogwarts."

"Yes, they are," Hermione exhaled.

"I know Scorp wished for siblings, but I don't think even _he_ knows what to do when Talia is over," Draco continued, sipping from a tall glass. "I think he hoped, when you and Astoria were pregnant so close together, that one of them might have been a boy."

"I think so, too," Hermione agreed with an evasive smile. "You never know, he might still get a baby brother one day."

Draco began to nod and then stilled, his drink halfway to his mouth. He glanced at Hermione, then those observant grey eyes flickered to her glass of juice.

"What," he breathed, setting his drink down on the island. He swallowed heavily. "Are you serious?"

"I only just found out a few days ago," Hermione said, biting her lip. She glanced around the room. "We'll keep it to ourselves for now, yeah?" Draco nodded though the curve of a smile grew on his features.

He absently trailed his fingers over her stomach, his grey eyes bright.

"It's going to be a boy," he murmured, meeting her gaze.

Despite herself, Hermione laughed. "You're sure of that, are you?"

"Positive," Draco said and planted a kiss on her lips. "That is the most amazing birthday gift you could have possibly given me."

"That isn't your birthday gift," Hermione said in a low voice, trailing a hand along his thigh and resting it inconspicuously. "But you won't get that until later."

His expression as he slid his chair closer, tossing an arm around her shoulders, was carefully blank but his eyes as he cast her a sidelong glance were wicked. Hermione simply smiled.

Draco looked around the room as he drew Hermione closer and she laid her head on his shoulder happily. Both sets of their friends all mingled together comfortably as one group.

"Still hard to believe some days, isn't it?" Draco asked quietly.

"Definitely," Hermione responded.

He pressed a kiss to her temple. "Love you."

"Love you more."


End file.
